


lights, glamour, action

by kienava



Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Slow Burn, Youtuber AU, but i mean......stuff Happens on the way, it's horny bees at first sight but give it time ;), y'all know i can't do sad endings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 28,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23182027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kienava/pseuds/kienava
Summary: Yang is a lifestyle vlogger whose video of her uncle yelling about soup is somehow nominated for an award at VidCon. Her sister, Ruby, got twice as famous posting TikToks of their dog. Weiss, as always, is Ruby's best friend and the desperate voice of reason.At VidCon, Yang's low expectations of the event get blown out of the water when she meets the mysterious, gorgeous, definition-of-glamorous makeup blogger Blake Belladonna.When everything in fitness guru Pyrrha Nikos' world turns upside down in an instant, the crew comes together to support her--and it throws all of their lives into chaos.
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long, Lie Ren/Nora Valkyrie, Pyrrha Nikos/Weiss Schnee
Comments: 54
Kudos: 269





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi i know it's a weird time in the world so i figured i'd drop this thing i've been holding onto for a little while (for those following the drama, yeah, this is the thing that i posted a snippet of on tumblr and someone plagiarized it. lol.)
> 
> thanks to everhaunting as always for bequeathing her ideas unto me and always encouraging me!

_“Ruby dared me to make a steak smoothie and drink it--”_

_“I did not!”_

_“--So thank you to Vitamix for sponsoring this XL video. Here we go!”_

_“Yang! What was that noise?”_

_“Good thing they sent me two blenders just in case, huh?”_

_“Why do I smell smoke? Oh my god, the KITCHEN--”_

Yang laughed to herself as she hit the spacebar to pause the clip. She didn’t make a point of chasing down sponsors, but who was she to turn down a fancy blender? Sure, there were a few people in the comments calling her a sellout, but their accusations were quickly drowned out by the thousands of supportive voices.

The picture she’d posted to her Instagram of her cradling her new blender in a baby blanket was receiving just as much support.

 **@yangbang** proud mother #Ad #Vitamix

 **@yang_xl_stan** yes!!! get that spon girl!!!

 **@lesbiyangz** so pretty omg 😍😍😍

 **@fthograywhales** ur a mom? u mean milf

 **@xiaoshort** let 👏 her 👏 drink 👏 the 👏 steak 👏

 **@crescentrose31** YANG YOU STILL NEED TO CLEAN UP THE KITCHEN >:c

Yang tapped over to her sister’s page. The first post was photographic evidence of the kitchen crime scene documented in full. It looked more horrifying that it was, really, but Yang recruited their father to help with the clean up. Taiyang would take any opportunity to bond with his daughters, even if it meant letting Ruby command them to scrub the undersides of the cabinets spotless.

They finished just in time to be fifteen minutes late to pick up Weiss on their way to the airport. Their delay inspired Weiss to simmer in her grouchiness for the entire plane ride that followed. She was still in a bad mood when they checked into their hotel, and by the sounds of it not even a hot shower had calmed her down.

“You wanna know the best part of hotels?” Weiss said, exiting the bathroom. “No kitchen for you to blow up. Plus, your hair isn’t everywhere already.”

“That’s just the price of beauty, Weiss,” Yang said.

“Are you talking about the steak smoothie or your hair?”

“Two things can be true,” Yang shrugged. Her finger hovered over her mousepad. “It’s time to press the best button in the world.”

Weiss dabbed at her long hair with a towel. “Please do _not_ elaborate.”

Yang shot her a look. “I meant ‘upload.’ You’re such a pervert, Weiss.”

Before Weiss could expand on her indignant scoff, Ruby burst into the room, arms full of--

“Snacks!” Ruby announced, dumping her grocery haul on the bed next to Yang.

“Great,” Weiss commented. “Now we have enough junk food to feed the entire convention.” She picked up a blue-wrapped pack. “Did you spend our entire budget on Oreos?”

“Please say yes,” Yang said.

Ruby snatched the pack out of Weiss’ hand and tore into the cookies. “I didn’t pay for any of this,” she said, popping two into her mouth.

“Excuse me?” Weiss squeaked. “How are you supposed to go to the awards ceremony tonight if you get arrested for shoplifting?”

“No, I got it all for free!” Ruby said, chocolatey bits falling from the corners of her mouth as she spoke. “The manager was so nice. She was actually wearing a Zwei shirt! And she asked me to do bunny ears to her in our selfie.”

Yang shrugged. “Perks of having 15 million followers, I guess.”

“Fourteen,” Ruby corrected.

“Point eight,” Weiss added, refusing to dilute the bitterness in her voice. She softened when she saw Ruby’s eyes widen. “I just don’t understand how a six-second video of your dog pretending to write his own name translates to free Cheetos.”

“That video was real and you know it. Oh, I got this, too.” Ruby dug up a single box of salad from under all the snack bags. “They had the butter lettuce you like!”

“...Thank you.” Weiss put her greens in the little fridge under the TV, mollified for the moment. “I suppose I have little room to complain about your questionably earned fame when I reap the benefits.”

“That’s right!” Ruby said with finality.

Yang set her laptop aside. She’d already queued up all of her posts for the next week, and if all went well she wouldn’t need to worry about editing, filming, or uploading for a few days after the convention. Granted, she’d had to work twice as hard the week before, but it was worth it for a rare break.

Plenty of other vloggers made daily or even hourly posts during VidCon, but fortunately that wasn’t Yang’s brand. She posted on her channel around once a week, sometimes more if something truly groundbreaking happened. For example: the time their Uncle Qrow went on a drunk rant about how much he hated non-solid foods. “OLD MAN YELLS AT SOUP” racked up a million hits in one day, and now it was one of her most popular uploads with almost 20 million views. The stats were impressive even compared to her usual 5 or 6 million views per video.

To Yang’s absolute confusion, the video of her uncle was somehow up for an award for Best Editing. When she’d seen the nomination, she’d actually snorted from laughing so hard. It was, by all definitions, a crack video: breakneck pace, close-up zooms, absurd filters and wacky sound effects. She was a hundred percent sure she wouldn’t win any of these semi-prestigious awards, and she was more than content to spend the weekend just having fun.

She had no idea how she’d ended up at VidCon, but it was a great excuse for a most-expenses-paid vacation with her sister. And considering Weiss and Ruby had been best friends for almost a decade, her presence was simply assumed at this point.

“Are you two almost ready?” Weiss asked, plugging in the hair dryer.

Ruby started to respond. “Almost--”

Weiss switched the dryer on. _WOOOOOOOOOOO_.

“Weiss,” Yang projected. “Weiss.”

Finally, Ruby pulled the plug from the socket. “Weiss!”

“There’s no need to scream,” Weiss said, snatching the dryer back. “It was a rhetorical question. I know you’ll wait until the last minute if I don’t start nagging now.” The crease of her frown somehow deepened. “Brush your teeth. They’re full of Oreo.”

Ruby ducked into the bathroom, mumbling something about how Weiss was always right (and annoying for it).

“I’m ready.” Yang hopped up and stretched. Editing anywhere but her desk always put a kink in her neck.

Weiss looked her up and down. “Are you joking?”

“Nope. Hurry up, slowpoke.”

“You can’t wear that.”

Yang put a hand on her hip, fully aware that she was in terry cloth shorts and a ratty, off-yellow tank top that she’d probably bought in high school. “I make videos in my pajamas all the time. It’d be weirder if I changed into something else.”

“That’s true,” Ruby chimed in, toothbrush in her mouth.

“Ruby having cookie crumbs all over her face is also very on brand.”

Weiss placed her hairdryer on the counter and turned to look at Yang dead on. “Is this whole event just a joke to you?”

Yang shrugged. “I mean...who am I trying to impress?”

“This is a chance to make a real name for yourself even if you don’t win your category. Most people would kill for this kind of networking opportunity, Yang. Pyrrha Nikos landed a sponsorship here last year because she happened to talk with an Underarmor representative at an afterparty. The only reason she _didn’t_ end up signing with them was because Reebok swooped it and signed her for twice as much. Don’t screw this up by being an idiot on purpose.”

“Wow. You made it through two whole sentences without insulting me. That was almost an actual pep talk.”

Weiss sighed and started up her hairdryer again.

Still, Yang let the words settle a little more deeply than she normally might. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to take this weekend a little more seriously.

***

By the time they reached the elevator, Weiss still hadn’t gotten it out of her system.

“...And how do you think that shirt’s going to look in pictures? It’s _neon orange.”_

Yang sighed. “Hey, you’ll be able to see me across literally any room and it doesn’t have holes in it. I’m wearing an entire bra. And pants. Can we just focus on how amazing Ruby looks?”

“Aw!” Ruby exclaimed, playfully punching Yang on the shoulder. “Thanks, sis.”

The biggest surprise of the night so far was the black-and-red dress that Ruby had pulled out of nowhere. After many, many hours of fruitless online shopping, she’d apparently decided that making her own dress in secret was the most practical option. All of her other options were too tight, too short, or too “plunge-y,” and sewing together several layers of tulle by hand was better than spending money on a dress she wouldn’t even like. If she started a fashion channel, it would surely take off, but she wasn’t one to wring out fame for every last drop of attention it would offer. Ruby was perfectly content running an Instagram account for their dog and posting TikToks once in a blue moon. Her adorable dog pictures and sporadic video posts had somehow amassed a huge following.

“Considering the event said cocktail attire, Ruby is dressed appropriately,” Weiss said, jabbing an accusatory finger at Yang. “Don’t blame me if you have to go on stage looking like a traffic cone.”

Yang chuckled. “Have you seen the other people in my categories? If Pyrrha doesn’t win Best Lifestyle Vlog, I’ll start the riot myself. And editing is stacked. I honestly don’t know how I got nominated for that one.”

Ruby nodded along. “I think Penny will win it. All the production ones should go to her, really. I don’t know how she comes up with so many Rube Goldberg ideas, let alone films her videos in single takes. And the videos where she makes knives out of all sorts of weird stuff? So cool! Have you seen the one made out of smoke? Ahh, it’s just--”

The elevator dinged. Yang started to walk off, but Weiss pulled her back just before she collided with another hotel guest.

“My bad,” Yang said. They were only on the thirteenth floor. How slow were these elevators?

She had to look up just slightly at the man she’d nearly bodychecked. Yang didn’t like to judge people by the way they looked--she’d been on the other end of nasty assumptions more times than she could count--but something about this man made her skin crawl. His hair was the color of a fresh slap mark, and he carried himself as if he genuinely believed he was six inches taller than he really was. The smug set of his jaw and less-than-subtle sneer etched into his mouth made Yang 90% sure that he worked for some sort of morally questionable tech company and still slept soundly afterwards.

Plus, what kind of douchebag wore sunglasses inside?

He flashed a cold smile at Yang and turned to faced the doors as they closed. His chill spread through the entire elevator. “Careful,” he started, “If I’d been holding a drink already, I might have spilled it on you.”

“She said she was sorry,” Weiss hissed.

“Did she? I must not have heard.”

Ruby stepped between her sister and the strange man. “Anyway...I think Penny’s really got a shot.”

“Yeah,” Yang said, still eyeing the man. Finally, she turned back to her friends. “She could sweep the post-production awards, honestly.”

The man chuckled to himself. He never turned around, but the way he smiled and shook his head made Yang wonder how he’d look as a permanent bobblehead.

“Bless you,” Ruby said automatically, confusing his callous grunt of a laugh for a sneeze.

“I appreciate it,” he said, his words dripping with condescension. Yang was certain that he did not, in fact, deserve her sister’s blessing.

Yang glared and hoped he could feel it stabbing into his skull. When he scratched the back of his head a moment later, Yang felt a little swell of pride.

Finally, the elevator dinged again. This time, Yang checked that they were on the ground floor before getting off, though she desperately wanted to push past this rude stranger as quickly as possible.

“Best of luck to your friend,” he said. “I hear the competition’s pretty cutthroat this year.”

“Thanks, I’ll let her know,” Ruby replied, either oblivious to his caustic tone or unwilling to tarnish their night by engaging further.

The man lingered in the doorway just long enough that even Ruby had to notice. Weiss cleared her throat, but he didn’t budge. The doors were open, but he was still as a roadblock, shoulders square and stance spread.

Forget not judging a book by its cover; his arrogance was practically glinting in his stupid sunglasses. He was very clearly Yang’s least favorite kind of person: one who relished in every ounce of control he could flaunt. He tossed a glance back at Yang, his smirk cataloguing her irritation with sick satisfaction.

Finally, he made to leave.

When he tripped crossing the threshold, Yang barely had the self-control to stifle her laugh.

“Careful,” Weiss said, pulling her foot back from in front of his ankle. “If I’d been wearing heels, you might have broken them.”

The man sneered, plucked at his red-lined lapel, and stormed off down the hallway.

“Weiss, that was amazing.” Yang stepped out onto the loud, patterned carpet (was that a requirement in all fancy hotels?).

Ruby glommed onto Weiss’ back like a koala. “You’re officially my hero!”

“It was nothing.” Weiss’ cheeks dusted pink like they always did when one of her close friends complimented her. A lifetime of parental neglect meant that even the smallest positive reinforcement made her feel like she was on a pedestal, something she’d admitted almost verbatim to Ruby and Yang one night while very drunk. As hard as she worked to maintain her cold, disaffected exterior, she really did care what others thought of her. It was obvious, at least to Yang, but she’d never say it out loud.

Weiss brushed her hands over her dress, making the tastefully sparse beadwork sparkle like snowflakes. “Shall we?”

Ruby skipped ahead into the crowded lobby, waving to a few fans who recognized her. Even in the hotel, there were security guards and ropes corralling the crowd, but a little velvet never stopped Ruby from turning a fan into a friend.

Weiss grumbled under her breath. “That unpleasant and _lengthy_ elevator ride put us even more behind schedule.”

“You can’t be late to a red carpet. It’s not going to come to life and crawl away,” Yang said, throwing her arm around Weiss’ shoulders and smiling at a flashing phone camera. “Everyone just gets there whenever.”

“That’s completely incorrect.”

“You go to a lot of red carpets, Weiss?”

“...I didn’t say that.”

“Excuse me, everyone. Red carpet queen coming through,” Yang announced loudly to the lobby.

Weiss flushed the same color as the carpet in question and marched ahead to catch up with Ruby.

Yang took her time walking through the lobby, just as happy as her sister to stop for pictures. She wasn’t quite as omnipresent as Ruby, but she wouldn’t deny the fact that she had a particularly passionate fanbase. Some saw her as a role model, but others seemed wholly unconcerned with whatever content she was putting out. Some of the more graphic responses to her social posts had shocked her at first, but apparently “please punch me in the face” and “I want her to strangle me” were intended as compliments.

As Yang leaned across the rope to take a picture with a girl wrapped in a rainbow flag, someone else screamed, “White hair girl! Who is she?!”

“What?” Yang said, caught off guard. Usually she tried not to engage beyond superficially in this kind of setting.

It was too fast and too flashy. Things always escalated.

“Is she your date?!” A voice screeched from the back.

The crowd went eerily quiet. It was like they’d all stopped breathing at the same exact second. The girl with the rainbow flag turned to Yang, eyes wide, a hint of a smile creeping onto her face. As Yang glanced over the crowd, she noticed that not everyone had such a hopeful reaction to the possibility that she might be seriously involved with someone for the first time since becoming a YouTube star. Many of them were looking at Yang like she was holding a needle up to an overfilled balloon. Much of her fans’ interest, she was well aware, resided in the mystique around her very private dating life despite being an out-and-proud internet celebrity. If she was so much as photographed with a pretty girl, Twitter and Tumblr exploded. It flooded her Instagram comments for weeks.

Once, she’d jokingly tweeted that she was in love with Pyrrha Nikos--and a handful of fans took it as an invitation to send the fitness vlogger death threats. The damage control video they had to film explaining that they weren’t involved in any way beyond platonically was a whole lot less fun than their usual collaborations. Fortunately and unfortunately, it attracted over 10 million views.

The girl with the flag reiterated the question quietly, eyes wide with wonder, speaking as if she was having a perfectly normal conversation with Yang and not baiting her into announcing potentially career-shattering news. “Is she your girlfriend?”

Yang burst out laughing. “Weiss? Oh my god, no. She’s a great singer, but we’d probably kill each other after one date.”

She swore the crowd took a collective exhale of relief. The girl with the flag, however, deflated just a little.

“Date me instead!” Someone shouted rabidly, sparking a chorus of similar echoes.

“I can sing, too!”

“You can kill _me_ anytime!”

Yang painted on a grin, her go-to armor. Charm usually worked well to safely defuse these situations. “You guys, I’m so flattered. Seriously.” She started backpedaling towards the exit, completely unprepared for what she was about to see. “But I’m really not looking for a...”

When she turned around, her jaw dropped. Sweeping through the revolving door was the most beautiful woman Yang had ever seen.

The first thing Yang noticed was her eyes, gold and warm and glowing like liquid amber. Dark hair the color of whispered, late-night conversations ever so effortlessly curled in loose waves past her shoulders. A smirk danced on her lips like an unsolvable riddle.

“...Girlfriend,” Yang finally finished, wondering when exactly she’d taken up praying.

She cleared her throat and tried to focus on extricating herself from the gaggle of fans, but she couldn’t stop herself. She glanced back at the woman by the door--who was, in fact, no longer at the door. With all the audacity in the world, she was striding right over, slipping into Yang’s world like she had a reservation.

(Yang would’ve invited her in anyway.)

From so close, Yang could see the perfectly blended, violet-tinted, smoky makeup that complemented her golden eyes and deep purple dress. It was all so put together. Flawless. Meticulous. _Curious_ , Yang thought to herself.

So that was Blake’s brand: mysterious, alluring, just dangerous enough to draw people in and keep them at arm’s length.

A princess who’d built her own tower.

(Yang wondered if she might be strong enough to scale it.)

Blake offered an aloof half-smile to the adoring fans before looking up at Yang, the corners of her lips still curled slightly. Captivated and stunned, Yang finally understood what it meant to _feel_ someone’s gaze.

(How quickly a moment could crumble.)

“Oh my god! That’s Blake Belladonna!”

“Can we please get a picture?”

“You literally cleared my skin. I owe you my life!”

Blake stood her ground through another moment of the frenzy. Yang might have forgotten about her own ability to move altogether if Weiss hadn’t reemerged from the revolving door right then to summon Yang with a shout and an aggressive wave.

When Yang turned back, Blake was no longer at her side.

She whirled around to face the elevators and caught those eyes one last time, her stomach flipping when she saw that they were staring right back at her, into her. Surveying her. All of a sudden, she felt underdressed for the occasion--or perhaps entirely overdressed.

With that, Blake Belladonna vanished down the hallway.

“Yang!” Weiss’ voice called for what must have been the third or fourth time based on her sharp tone. It had taken as much to cut through Yang’s daze.

“Yeah,” Yang said to no one in particular. She blinked back to reality and remembered the hundreds of people watching her. With a broad smile, she pointed to the door and addressed them. “I gotta run. But before I do...”

The crowd jumped in. “Make today XL!”

“You got it!” Face time with fans could be overwhelming in all kinds of ways, but hearing her own sign-off line shouted back to her never got old.

She caught up with Weiss at the door just in time to overhear something about a stupid slogan.

***

“And the winner for Best Collab is...Poledinamonium and Renora Is On Fire, ‘Killer Robot Attack!’”

Yang stood up, wolf-whistling and cheering as loudly as she could. Ruby joined, shrieking in support of their friends.

Weiss remained seated, pressing her hands over her ears until the sisters sat down.

“Do you have to do that every time?” she asked.

“Only when someone we know wins,” Ruby said. She was practically bouncing in her seat, thrilled by the outcome of the last few awards. So far, Penny was cleaning up, which meant that Weiss’ ears had yet to be granted a respite of more than a few minutes.

Weiss opened her mouth to snark back, but she would never risk ruining Ruby’s mood. She settled for crossing her arms indignantly.

Penny stayed on stage to present the next award, a purely vote-based category called Rising Star that she’d won the previous year. There were no official nominees, only write-ins, but there were plenty of rumors and fan theories about who might be crowned the best newcomer. No fewer than three people on Reddit claimed that they already knew the winner from an “airtight source” on the convention staff, but they all supplied different names as the definitive answer.

As Penny stepped up to the mic, she peeked inside the envelope. Her face lit up.

“It is my absolute pleasure to present the Rising Star Award. Please engage in wholehearted applause for my friend, Ruby Rose!”

Ruby’s eyeballs almost popped out of her head, and Yang couldn’t blame her.

While Ruby stayed seated, unsure if she was dreaming or not, Yang leapt up and let out a roar. “Yeah, Ruby!”

It took Weiss physically yanking Ruby to her feet to make her head to the stage. Penny pulled her into a bone-crushing embrace.

Yang worried when she remembered that Ruby had no speech prepared, but her concern faded quickly when she realized that the rest of the attendees were standing, too. Their applause had yet to subside.

Penny tilted the mic just a little lower as Ruby stepped up to it. When the applause finally faded, her voice was a bit shaky, like she’d recently been dropped headfirst into an ice bath and pulled out just as quickly. “What is happening...”

The whole crowd laughed.

“Um, okay,” Ruby continued. She tugged at the high, tight collar on her dress. “Boy, it is really warm up here.”

Another wave of laughter.

“Okay. This is...wow,” Ruby tried again.

Yang could sense her sister’s nerves. Making videos online didn’t necessarily prepare someone for surprise public speaking. Yang figured it was worth embarrassing herself a little bit if it meant helping her sister through. She jumped up onto her chair and yelled. “Yeah, Ruby!”

It worked. The room lit up with guffaws and giggles. Yang clapped and shouted again as she landed back on the floor. “Woooo!”

While most everyone was distracted, Ruby took a deep breath. It was all she needed. “Everyone here is...so amazing. I mean, Oscar Pine? That decorative mini hay bale tutorial was so cute! We made like sixteen of them for Halloween. Oh, and I can’t believe I got to meet Coco Adel. And Penny! Ahhh. Thank you so much. Your videos are amazing. Anyway, I don’t exactly know what I did, but I know I couldn’t have done it without all of you.” Her left foot tapped nervously. “Okay, I’m just going to make a video later that will hopefully make more sense than this rambling. Today was just...” She broke away from the mic before she could finish, trailing off in a sentence that Yang could anticipate. The whole thing was surreal. Ruby swallowed hard and added an eloquent button to her speech. “Yeah.”

The crowd burst into cheers again. Penny gave Ruby another near-fatal hug before escorting her offstage.

Most of the other winners were predictable. Penny took home practically all of the remaining technical awards, including Best Editing, but the category wasn’t entirely without surprise for Yang.

When she’d first looked at the list, she’d seen Penny’s channel name, laughed away any hope of winning, and spared a cursory glance at the rest of the nominees. “Belladonna Beauty” hadn’t stuck out in the original email, but the few seconds of footage the presenters showed made Yang feel like all of the oxygen had been sucked out of the room without warning. It was the girl from the lobby, impossibly elegant even in what looked like a green tea clay mask. Blake was objectively, subjectively, transcendently gorgeous. Sure, the perfect lighting and crisp, subtle editing added a certain sheen to her image on screen, but that wasn’t all that drew Yang’s attention. The the calming lilt to her voice, her cute little mannerisms, the way she cocked her head when she talked about a product she liked...

Yang wasn’t normally one to care about the powder-versus-cream eye shadow debate, but after the brief montage she suddenly found herself very, very invested.

Luckily, the rest of the award ceremony demanded little attention. She clapped when Ruby clapped and cheered louder when Weiss reprimanded them, but her mind was busy wondering if--when?--she might cross paths with Blake again.

Finally, the ceremony was over.

Yang considered going back up to the room to change out of her neon t-shirt and ripped black jeans, but she knew that if she left she probably wouldn’t come back down. There was far too strong a possibility that she would just end up snacking on junk food and binge watching Blake’s videos. The only thing propelling her towards the party was the chance that she might actually run into Blake in person, free of ads and comment sections, and it was enough to steel her against the imminent schmoozing. Even with Weiss’ advice in the back of her mind, she wasn’t thrilled by the idea of using her supposed vacation to network.

Ruby stuck around at the theater for interviews after her big win. Yang wanted to wait for Ruby to finish up, but Weiss insisted that they go on ahead to the hotel lobby.

All of the fans had cleared out during the ceremony, and it was immediately easier to breathe in the less crowded room. The staff had set up a number of standing tables to create a classic cocktail party atmosphere, but instead of the typical black tablecloths, they were all draped with a rainbow of solid neon. Weiss’ disgusted expression alone made the whole event worthwhile.

“Guess I’m on theme after all,” Yang laughed.

Weiss scoffed, making Yang wonder if she was genuinely feeling self-conscious. “Ugh. Whatever. I need a scotch. Find the least offensively bright table and guard it carefully.”

As Weiss sashayed through the increasingly populated room, sorely out of place between lemon yellow and hot pink, Yang kept her eyes on the entrance. She told herself that she was waiting for Ruby to walk in, but a (not so) little part of her was hoping to see someone else come out of that revolving door. It was so easy, Yang thought, to admire Blake from afar--wasn’t that the foundation of every beauty channel’s success?

Yang scanned each new face that came in, pushing down the fact that even the passing thought of striking up conversation with Blake made her feel like she’d just crawled out of the ocean, shivering from a midnight swim. Earlier, Blake had stunned Yang silent with nothing more than her eyes. Had she even been trying? What would happen to Yang’s heartbeat when that silky voice joined the fray?

A few people came over to greet Yang, including Ren and Nora. Instead of showing off their awards, however, Nora took the opportunity to challenge Yang to an arm wrestling contest.

“Tonight’s the night I finally take you down,” Nora said, slamming her elbow on the table and wiggling her fingers. “Bring it on!”

“Are you sure you want to ruin your own night by losing to me?” Yang countered, crossing her arms.

“Impossible! I’m on a winning streak.”

Ren leaned around Nora’s shoulder to chime in. “A streak technically has to be more than one win in a row.”

“Which is exactly why I have to beat her!” Nora said. Her circular logic was rather impossible to argue with. It was as effective as blowing spitballs at the crooked skeleton of a nascent building; nothing would knock the helter-skelter foundation back into place.

After Yang emerged victorious, Nora accused her for the dozenth time of cheating. “It’s not fair! Her prosthetic doesn’t get tired.”

“That excuse might work if it hadn’t been a left-handed match,” Ren pointed out. “Come on. Time to eat.”

“I love it when you say those three little words...”

Nora and Ren bid Yang a good evening and made their way to the bar.

Yang peeked over her shoulder at the front door again--still no sign of Ruby.

“Waiting for someone?” A voice said from across the table.

When Yang turned her attention back, she was shocked and thrilled to see the mysterious woman she’d so hoped to find.

Two identical curls framed Blake’s face perfectly, and her hair was now up in a perfect, artful messy bun. Yang wondered how long it had taken--did she tie her hair up haphazardly, uncomfortable with the heat in the theatre? Or had she spent a painstaking number of minutes pinning it up, spooling those curls around her fingers until they spun out just right?

“Blake,” Yang said, letting the name take shape on her tongue with a shallow exhale.

“And you must be Yang.”

“I must be.” Yang extended her hand, delighted to discover an excuse to touch Blake in some way.

“A handshake. That’s a very formal introduction coming from a traffic cone.”

Yang raised an eyebrow. “Did Weiss pay you to come over here and say that?”

Blake cocked her head. “Who’s that?”

With a wave, Yang dismissed it. “Just a friend we brought along. ‘We’ being me and my sister.”

Blake took another step towards the table and placed her drink down softly. “I don’t think anyone in the room could have missed your cheering. Her speech was very--”

“Rambly?”

“I was going to say endearing,” Blake finished.

Yang cracked a smile. When she realized that Blake’s expression was inching towards amused, she realized that she should probably say something instead of continuing to stare in silence.

“Congrats on the nomination,” Yang said quickly. She wished that she’d remembered her water bottle. Her mouth was a little too dry all of a sudden. “I mean, I know some people are all about winning, but I think it’s pretty cool just to be here.”

“Agreed. And same to you.” Blake’s phone rang and she took it from her pocket, her smile falling as the screen absorbed her attention.

“Do you need to get that?”

“Sorry,” Blake muttered. She turned away as she answered the phone. “Adam, what--”

Yang could hear yelling from the other end of the line. She saw Blake flinch and pull the phone away from her ear.

Though Yang couldn’t quite make out what this Adam was saying, she had a feeling this kind of call didn’t fit the party mood.

While he continued to yell, Yang brainstormed ways that she could get Blake out of it.

Blake finally brought the phone closer and spoke into it, still careful to the keep the receiver a ways from her ear. “Adam. Just being nominated is--”

He started yelling again.

Yang tapped lightly on her wrist, but she didn’t miss the way Blake jumped at the unexpected contact. “Sorry. Do you need an out? I can pull the fire alarm,” Yang whispered.

Blake bit her lip. By the sounds of it, Adam wasn’t going to give up his ranting any time soon, and Yang wasn’t about to let some angry guy ruin Blake’s night.

Blake stared at her phone. After another moment of hesitation, she hung up.

“That works, too,” Yang said.

The phone started ringing again right away, but Blake put it on silent.

Yang was curious about the man on the other end, but it didn’t feel like a great moment to ask.

“That was my editor, Adam,” Blake said, banishing the need for Yang’s question. She turned to face Yang rather than her abandoned phone. “He’s mad that we didn’t win, but I think I’ll let him calm down on his own. He can be...a lot.”

Yang put a hand on her hip. “Ha. I definitely get that. You know my high school superlative was ‘Most?’ Not ‘most likely to be famous’ or anything like that. Just ‘Most.’”

Blake burst out laughing. She caught herself just as abruptly, covering her mouth and watching Yang with sparkling eyes.

It was a lovely sound, like crystal chimes brushing against each other in an autumn breeze. Yang wanted to hear it again without the immediate censoring.

“I hope that’s the only thing you two have in common. Although I guess you both gravitate towards colors most commonly found on caution signs.” Blake shifted, subtly circling the table to toy with the sleeve of Yang’s orange t-shirt.

Yang feigned a frown but let herself lean down a little closer. “Are you ever gonna let me live this outfit down?”

“I guess you’ll have to find out.”

And then Yang was staring again. There wasn’t anything extraordinary about the lighting in the lobby, but Yang was just as dazzled by the woman standing in front of her as the version she’d seen on screen earlier. More so, perhaps, now that Blake was close enough that Yang could see a rogue eyelash on her cheek. When she caught herself glancing down at Blake’s lips, she knew she was already a lost cause.

She hadn’t had a drop of alcohol, but she was well beyond intoxicated.

Blake seemed content to stand in silence, too, but the clicking of heels alerted Yang to Weiss’ arrival. She was double-fisting scotches, surely both for herself. Yang wouldn’t bother asking either way.

“The gamers are here,” Weiss drawled, letting all of her disdain flow freely. She downed a glass in one go. “How does anybody play a video game for eight hours straight? My brain would melt. Though I suppose that explains their charming personalities.”

When she finally noticed that she and Yang weren’t alone at the table, she cleared her throat.

Yang caught on. Of course Weiss would insist on a personal introduction. “Oh, right. Weiss, this is Blake.”

Weiss looked her up and down, apparently deeming her worthy of continued engagement. “That’s quite an ensemble.”

“Thank you. I think,” Blake said, brushing her fingers over the skirt of her dress.

“It’s a compliment.”

“As close as Weiss ever gets to one, anyway,” Yang corrected, winking conspiratorially at Blake.

Weiss turned her head so fast that her ponytail whipped around her shoulders (Blake narrowly dodged it). “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” Yang patted Weiss on the head.

“Stop it. Don’t touch me,” Weiss snapped, flailing about until she successfully drove Yang’s hand out of her personal bubble.

Yang couldn’t help but smile when she heard Blake laugh again. Unfortunately, she made the mistake of letting her gaze linger in front of Weiss.

“Yang,” Weiss said sternly. She changed the subject as swiftly as she’d entered the conversation. “Where’s Ruby?”

“Still doing interviews. She texted us,” Yang said.

Blake brushed her fingertips against Yang’s hand atop the table, and Yang was sure her reaction was all too obvious. “Actually, she came in just a minute ago with Pyrrha Nikos.”

“Oh. Guess I missed her.”

Weiss took an unwelcome opportunity to chime in. “Distracted, perhaps?” She asked knowingly.

If Yang didn’t find something to look at besides Blake’s mouth, she was going to make an even bigger fool of herself. It was bad enough that she wasn’t taking Weiss’ bait. She locked onto Blake’s glass, forgotten on the table. “What are you drinking? Gin and tonic? Straight vodka?”

“Vinegar,” Blake deadpanned.

Yang’s eyebrows flew up before she heard Weiss scoff next to her. “Are you messing with me?”

Blake’s sly smile was enough of an answer. “Just water.”

“Water on the rocks, classy. Also my drink of choice.” Yang picked up the glass and finished it off. “Mind if I grab you another?”

“Offering to buy me water? From the free open bar? How chivalrous.”

“Is that a no?” Yang challenged.

Blake hummed to herself and tapped her chin as if she was pondering her answer carefully.

Weiss said something about obscene eye contact in public, but Yang wasn’t listening. She finally snapped out of it when she heard her sister call her name.

Ruby skipped over their table, followed closely by a tall woman with a dress fiery enough to give her hair a run for its money.

“If it isn’t the Best Lifestyle Vlogger herself,” Yang said, clapping Pyrrha on the shoulder.

“Congratulations,” Weiss blurted out. “Your videos are incredibly inspiring. For so many people. Myself included. I never used to do cardio.” She was rambling, uncharacteristically uncomposed.

“That’s very sweet of you,” Pyrrha said, voice bubbling with a laugh. “You’re Weiss, right? Yang played one of your songs for me.”

“She what?” Weiss’ voice jumped a full octave, more shrill than Yang had ever heard her.

“I’m sorry! I hope you don’t mind,” Pyrrha went on. “I thought your lyrics were truly beautiful.”

Yang braced herself to catch Weiss in case she passed out on the spot. Of all the ways she imagined this night might go, watching Weiss go absolutely tongue-tied over Pyrrha Nikos hadn’t even crossed her mind, but it was an absolute delight to witness.

Pyrrha gestured to the rest of their little group. “Congratulations to all of you as well.”

Yang opened her mouth to commend Pyrrha on her win, but Weiss cut in again. “You’re so brave.”

Pyrrha’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry. I don’t follow.”

“Speaking out against Dust,” Weiss explained.

Ruby nodded. “That stuff’s kinda really scary.”

“It’s a problem,” Pyrrha nodded. “I was getting so many questions about diet supplements and the like, so I figured I should just make a video about it.”

“What’s Dust?” Blake asked.

“You know those diet pills that guarantee losing a shit-ton of weight? It’s like those, but a powder you can put in drinks,” Yang explained.

“It’s more dangerous than pills,” Weiss went on, apparently recovered enough from her starstruck state to form coherent thought again. “The company that manufactures Dust has absolutely no moral grounding. They have entire departments dedicated to finding ways around all sorts of health codes and regulations. Worse, they call it their ‘Distribution Ethics Department.’”

“Really?” Blake asked. “That’s awful.”

Yang lowered her voice, intending her words for Blake’s ears only. “Weiss’ dad is the CEO. He’s full-on garbage.”

Blake looked a little surprised, but Weiss’ dark expression confirmed the truth of Yang’s words.

“She doesn’t like to talk about it,” Yang tacked on.

“Anyway, Blake, Pyrrha has a whole campaign against Dust and unhealthy dieting,” Ruby said. “Her channel’s all about body positivity. It’s so great!”

Pyrrha blushed. “You’re far too kind.”

“Sounds like important work,” Blake said, her voice soft but steely. “There’s so much insidious messaging out there that can hurt young people, especially girls and young women.”

“I--Yes! Exactly,” Pyrrha said. “Of course you would know all about this. I’m sure you’ve encountered such things in the cosmetics world.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Would you be interested in collaborating sometime? Honestly, I’d love to have you do my makeup while we talk about body image messaging,” Pyrrha laughed.

Blake shifted her weight to her other foot. “Oh, I...I’d have to ask my manager.”

“Of course. I understand,” Pyrrha said, taking out her phone. “Would you mind if I gave you my number? We can keep in--”

When she looked at her screen, her smile dropped.

She said nothing as she stared, her eyes widening.

Weiss moved her hand towards Pyrrha’s shoulder but pulled it back at the last second, opting to hover at a safe but nosy distance. “What’s wrong?”

All of the excitement at the table sublimated, suddenly displaced by a dreadful anticipation.

“Pyrrha?” Yang asked.

“My producer just...” Pyrrha trailed off.

Ruby gasped. “Jaune?”

“Did something happen to him?” Blake asked.

Pyrrha shook her head. “No, no. He’s quite alright. He just texted me. My channel’s been demonetized.”

“What?!” Weiss exclaimed a little louder than intended. Someone at a nearby table cleared their throat and shot her a glare, which Weiss returned with equal ferocity.

Suddenly, Ren and Nora were barreling towards them. Well, Nora was. Ren was taking his time gently pushing through the crowd, avoiding rustling too many feathers.

“This is ridiculous!” Nora announced.

“We know,” Weiss said. “It’s absolutely absurd.”

“You already heard?” Pyrrha asked.

Nora threw her arms around Pyrrha. “How dare you not let me congratulate you first!”

“Wait. What?”

Pyrrha rubbed Nora’s back for a moment before carefully extricating herself from the violent embrace. “I’m sorry, Nora. I didn’t see you when I came in.”

“Well, we did get a little distracted on our way to the buffet,” Nora admitted, waggling her eyebrows at Ren.

“Uh,” Yang began, “I don’t think this is the major issue at the moment.”

“What happened, Pyrrha?” Ren asked, inserting himself into a small space around the little table.

“Her channel just got demonetized.” Weiss crossed her arms, utterly indignant.

“WHAT?!” Nora shrieked.

“Agreed.”

Ren looked just as shocked despite his lack of an outburst “That’s...”

“INSANE!” Nora finished.

“Yes,” Ren agreed. “That. Though I might have chosen a more sensitive word.”

“Yes, yes, you’re right--but I’m ANGRY!”

“What are you going to do?” Blake jumped in, tapping Pyrrha on the arm.

“What can you do?” Yang said. “The same thing happened to Carmine Esclados last year.”

Ren thought about the name for a moment. “Who?”

“Exactly.”

Ruby gasped again.

“Everyone, stop,” Weiss insisted. “Obviously, this was a mistake. We’ll just contact YouTube and--”

Pyrrha’s phone rang. She picked it up right away. “Jaune?”

“Put it on speaker,” Yang said.

Weiss slapped her arm. “Don’t be an idiot. It’s way too loud in here.”

Everyone stood still, not one breath taken between them as Pyrrha listened.

Yang couldn’t help but notice the discrepancy between this call and Blake’s earlier one with Adam. Even under the most dire circumstances, Jaune wasn’t screaming at his colleague. If Yang ever met this Adam...well. She hoped for his sake that she never got the chance.

“Alright. Thank you,” Pyrrha finally said. Then she hung up.

Nora broke the silence. _“Well?”_

“Apparently my latest yoga tutorial was flagged for obscenity.”

Weiss scoffed. “What’s obscene about downward-facing dog?”

“Depends on the context...” Nora said. With a cutting look from Weiss, she stopped herself.

Next to Nora, Ren’s face turned a shade darker than the bright pink stripe in his hair.

While Pyrrha went over the details of the sudden spike in reports on her page, Yang was already thinking of possible solutions. She was tired from the long day, but she always had enough energy to help someone as good and kind as Pyrrha.

Whatever was going on, Yang was sure there was something shady involved. Popular channels didn’t just get uniformly shut down. One or two videos, maybe, if the person on camera forgot to edit out a name brand, used Taylor Swift’s music, or made the mistake of mentioning anything about being queer. Yang’s own coming out story had been demonetized, but she’d expected it on some level, and the feedback from fans telling her she’d inspired them to come out or helped them discover their own identities was worth infinitely more than any ad. Making videos was her job, sure, but that didn’t mean it was always about making money. Fashion vlogger Coco Adel, food photographer Velvet Scarlatina, and general chaosmongers Nora and Ren had gone out of their way to make their own videos supporting her after the whole thing, all of which suffered a similar fate under the questionable regulation.

And that gave Yang the perfect idea.

“...And then there was something about my pants being too tight.”

“Why would somebody _complain_ about that?”

“Nora, now is so not the time.”

“Guys,” Yang broke in. “Let’s make a video.”

Ruby brightened. “That’s a great idea!”

“All of us standing up for Pyrrha? That’s way better than some boring VidCon vlog,” Nora said.

“We could film it at our house when we get back.” Ruby was practically bouncing.

“We’ll bring our lighting kit,” Ren offered.

“No. We’re doing this right now,” Yang clarified, already reaching for her phone in her back pocket.

Weiss stepped off to the side and held her hand out to take the phone. “I’ll film it.”

Yang pulled the phone away. “What? No, we should all be in it.”

“Come on!” Ruby urged.

“I’m not a celebrity,” Weiss said matter-of-factly.

“You are to me, Weiss!”

Weiss looked at Ruby like she’d just offered her some moldy fruit. She plucked Yang’s phone out of her hand. “No thank you. Now, everyone gather around Pyrrha. No, Pyrrha in the middle, Nora.”

Yang ended up on one end, flanking Pyrrha with Ren.

Blake had drifted a few steps from the group, but she was still watching everyone cluster up.

“Hey,” Yang said, splitting off as Nora and Ruby vied for the spot closest to Pyrrha on her other side. “You’re totally invited, you know.”

“Are you sure? It looks like Nora and Ruby are ready to start throwing punches to get a spot next to Pyrrha,” Blake laughed.

“Yeah, they get a little rowdy. But you can stand next to me if you want.”

Blake pursed her lips, thinking so hard Yang could almost hear it.

Yang backtracked, worried that she’d come on too strong like she always did. She rubbed the back of her neck with her prosthetic hand. “No pressure, though. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

The past few hours had been full of glitzy dresses and indulgent decor, but the quiet smile that blossomed on Blake’s face was by far the most beautiful thing Yang had seen all day. She glanced at the still-squabbling group and reached for Yang’s right hand. “I’d love to be in your video.”

Yang wondered what she’d find in those eyes if she didn’t force herself to look avert her gaze.

“Great,” she said. “Let’s do this.”

***

_“Okay, wait. Pyrrha, you start.”_

_“Hello everyone!”_

_“WE’RE AT VIDCON!”_

_“Nora, please.”_

_“Can we get to the point already?”_

_“Weiss, you can’t say you don’t want to be in the video and then provide commentary.”_

_“What? Ren does it all the time.”_

_“That’s sort of our brand.”_

_“Anyway!”_

_“Thanks for keeping us focused, Ruby. As we were saying...”_

_“Pyrrha’s channel is in trouble! And we know you all love her as much as we do because she’s the nicest person in the whole universe, so...”_

_“We’re gonna do something about it.”_

_“Hell yeah we are!”_

_“...We don’t know what exactly we can do, though.”_

_“Way to be a downer, Ren.”_

_“It is sort of true.”_

_“Sigh. I guess you’re right.”_

_“Nora, did you just say ‘sigh’ out loud?”_

_“What did Yang say about the commentary, Weiss?!”_

_“Ah! Nora, you stepped on my foot.”_

_“Your foot stepped under mine.”_

_“So as we were saying.”_

_“Thank you, Blake. At least someone is keeping their priorities straight.”_

_“Straight? Sorry, Weiss, but I’m bisexual.”_

_“How is that possibly bad news?”_

_“If you must ask, Yang, now this video will be demonetized, too.”_

_“Which is what we’re here to talk about!”_

_“Yes, thank you, Ruby! We came to support Pyrrha and break legs, and--”_

_“ANYWAY.”_

_“Ah. Weiss is cranky. We need to get her back to the room so she can take a nap.”_

_“I swear to god, Yang, I will lock you out.”_

_“You can always crash with me.”_

_“Aw, thanks, Blake--”_

_“That’s it. You two, stop flirting. You’ve known each other for two hours. Nora, stop stepping on Ruby’s feet. Pyrrha, the floor is yours.”_

_“Wait. Is...is she crying?”_

_“I’m sorry. This has been such an overwhelming day and you’re all simply wonderful. And all of you out there, too. I wouldn’t have come this far without your support and it truly means the world to me.”_

_“Oh, Weiss, are you crying, too?”_

_“Shut up.”_

_“Tell my baby sister to shut up again and I’ll lock you out.”_

_“Alright, are we done y--wait, Yang what are you--get out of my face!”_

_“Everybody tweet #SavePyrrha, don’t forget to love yourselves, and go make a positive difference in the world. We love you! Goodnight!”_

***

“Well. That was a complete mess,” Weiss said. “Let’s try again, shall we?”

“No! That was perfect!” Ruby exclaimed, dashing to snatch the phone from Weiss’ hand.

Yang snorted. “That was live on Instagram, Weiss. No do-overs. And no demonitization. Besides, it was awesome.”

Weiss crossed her arms with an indignant _Hmph_.

Nora stood in a wide stance, hands on her hips. “Man, it’s been so long since we did something totally unscripted. What a rush. I could jump over a building right now.”

“You guys plan your videos?” Yang asked. “I just turn the camera on and hope I catch myself sneezing or doing something else stupid.”

“I have scripts for all of mine,” Blake said.

“Yeah, but you actually have to remember stuff and, like, know what you’re talking about,” Yang said.

“I hope it comes across that way.”

“It does. You sound super smart.”

“Do I?”

Weiss slapped her palm against her forehead. “I can’t listen to this anymore. Ruby, let’s go.”

Pyrrha grabbed Weiss before she left, hugging her and saying something that made Weiss’ cheeks flush. Weiss smoothed out her dress as she headed for the elevators, Ruby happily following.

“I think we’re turning in as well,” Ren said. “Goodnight, everyone.”

He and Nora walked off, discussing whether jumping over buildings was a viable idea for a future stunt video. Ren seemed to be on board provided they could get the appropriate permits.

At the table, Pyrrha wrapped Yang and Blake in a tight hug. “Thank you both so much. What a splendid idea, Yang.”

“I hope it helps,” Yang muttered. “There’s no way your fans will let this slide. They won’t let Kassandra go down without a fight.”

Blake’s face betrayed confusion. “Kassandra?”

“Yeah, from Assassin’s Creed Odyssey. Pyrrha was the body model for the character.”

Blake’s jaw dropped.

Pyrrha didn’t even try to hide her embarrassment. She ran her fingers through the end of her ponytail and offered a little smile. “That’s me.”

Yang chuckled to herself. “Man, I love seeing people’s reactions to that. Anyway, I guess poor Jaune’s gonna have a hell of a weekend.”

“I trust him to figure out what’s going on,” Pyrrha said with a tired smile.

“He’s got your back.”

“If you need anything else this weekend, you have my number,” Blake said. “Keep us posted, okay?”

With one last hug and several more words of gratitude, Pyrrha made her exit.

That left Yang and Blake alone--sort of.

The crowd at the party was thinning out, leaving the lobby significantly quieter than it had been hours before. Still, there was a buzz to the room, a constant reminder that they were being watched or overheard. There was always a risk of an unwelcome photograph or the wrong person listening in, and Yang wasn’t sure if she would ever get used to the feeling.

Yang needed to drag her mind away from its late-night attempts at anxious thoughts. Being around Blake didn’t exactly alleviate her nerves, but it was a much more pleasant kind of anxiety, full of anticipation and potential. “Sorry I didn’t include your slogan along with Pyrrha and Nora’s. I kinda don’t know it.”

Blake shook her head. “That’s really okay. All I do at the end of videos is say ‘That’s all from me! See you next week.’ It’s boring.”

“It’s cute,” Yang said without thinking. “Very...natural.”

“What?”

Yang stumbled over her explanation, which ended up being an absolutely terrible cover. “I mean, it’s cute when you say it. It’s straightforward, for sure. But...yeah.”

“What’s with everyone accusing me of being straight tonight?” Blake said, stifling a laugh deep in her chest. Yang wondered if she was feeling that same anxiety bubbling inside her ribcage, the kind that made thoughts like ‘it’s cute’ boil over without intention. Blake went on, her demeanor sobering. “Then again, I guess I never really talk about it in my videos. Anytime I mention something like that, it gets edited out.”

“I guess that’s good if you want to get paid.”

“I don’t know. Most of my videos are already sponsored by whatever product I’m using that day, so editing it out feels a little...”

Manipulative? Controlling? No, that was too much too soon. “Extra?” Yang tried.

“Yes.” Blake nodded once. “That.”

“Are you okay with that video being on my story?”

“I am.” Blake shrugged. “If Adam has a problem with it...”

“Then it’s his problem,” Yang finished. “It’s also none of his business.”

“I--Yes. You’re absolutely right.”

For what felt like the hundredth time, Yang was struck speechless by the way Blake was looking at her. Was this part of the allure, part of the image? It couldn’t be. Without too many flashing cameras around to bear witness, there was nothing sly or superior about this smile. It was quiet and contained, but maybe that was just the real Blake.

And maybe Yang liked that. She’d grown up with a loud father, a loud sister, a loud dog, and a loud personality of her own. So many of her important people outside of her immediate family were bold and brash in their own unique ways, including Weiss and Nora. Blake reminded Yang more of Ren or Pyrrha. Ren was soft, both in voice and demeanor, always ready to offer an open ear. Pyrrha’s presence was usually enough to turn heads, but being eternally humble meant that she wasn’t aware of the effect she could have just by walking into a room.

Now there was Blake. She wasn’t loud, but people listened when she spoke. Noise faded into nothing (though perhaps that was just in Yang’s imagination).

In that moment, Yang realized why she felt so comfortable and so nervous around Blake at the same time. Blake noticed things, and there was a good chance she’d already picked up on the fact that Yang hid behind her own facade. Hers might not be based on mystery and shadows; she could never pull that off convincingly. Yang used her bright smile the way Blake used her enigmatic smirk. Most people wouldn’t look too closely at the sun, content to receive its the warmth and light without ever considering just how lonely it might be.

Maybe Blake understood that. The moon spent every day hiding, didn’t it?

She seemed to always know just a little bit more than she was letting on. She was observant, that much was obvious. Deliberate and intentional, too, her flawless presentation a perfect distraction from whatever was buried underneath it.

What was she keeping under that shroud of elegance? Did she want to climb the slippery ladder of success without making disruptive waves? If not, what did she want?

These weren’t questions that belonged to 10:30 p.m. on a Friday night. They shouldn’t have been anywhere near the front of Yang’s mind, but here she was, meditating on when and how against a backdrop of gold.

It should have been terrifying to meet someone whose soul was so easy to see-- _oh, it’s you, I know you_ \--but it was also a relief.

Maybe loneliness could become a worn-out habit instead of an inevitability.

What frightened Yang the most, as she stood by that neon blue cocktail table, was the fact that she wasn’t scared. How could she be thinking all of this about someone she’d just met? Why did she feel so certain that the same thoughts were swirling around Blake’s head, too?

Blake must have sensed Yang spiraling into the paradox of it all. She held Yang’s gaze steadily, ready to fall right along with her. So Yang decided to jump.

“Can I ask you something?” Yang started, barely whispering.

“Of course,” Blake answered.

If I wanted to give you the world, would you take it?

Yang thought through every option, a woman about to gleefully give away her soul to an unknown and enthralling devil. Finally, she settled on a question that wouldn’t quite feel like careening over a cliff. “How did Pyrrha end up with your number before me?”

It was less of a jump and more of a stumbling step forward, but it was enough to spark a glimmer in Blake’s eyes. “She asked.”

Yang leaned back against the table, elbows slipping with the blue linen. “Yeah, I guess that works if you wanna do it the boring way.”

“What’s the not-boring way?” Blake pushed.

“Can I walk you back to your room?” Yang asked.

Somehow, Blake was getting closer, too close for the hotel lobby at a convention where a considerable number of people had GoPros strapped to their bodies. “No. But you could walk me back to yours.”

“Yeah,” Yang breathed. She was so used to being the one leading, but there was something exhilarating about letting someone else pick their step. Blake was a waltz, graceful and practiced, but never predictable. Just when Yang thought she knew where they were going next, she was spinning in another direction altogether.

“Yang?” Blake sounded almost nervous--maybe she wasn’t as used to being in control as Yang thought.

Yang cleared her throat. “Oh, um. I would, but Ruby and Weiss are probably asleep already.”

Blake hummed in response. “Roommates. So inconvenient.”

“I guess...goodnight, then.”

“You can still drop me off at my door,” Blake proposed, less expectation behind the words than before.

Regardless, Yang beamed. “Okay.”

The elevator ride felt like an eternity, partly because of the old hotel’s dire need for renovations, but mostly because Yang had to fight the urge to take Blake’s hand or stare at her lips or press her back against the mirrored walls and melt against her. There were other people crammed in the car with them, enough that the elevator stopped on seemingly every other floor before arriving at 13.

Blake was apparently equally unprepared to say goodbye as she dragged Yang out of the lift by the hand.

And then they were standing in front of Blake’s room, the entire evening gone in a blink.

“This is me,” Blake said indicating room 1346.

“No, this is a door,” Yang teased.

Blake shoved her shoulder lightly. “You got famous with that sense of humor?”

“Oh, yeah. I got famous because of it.”

“Sorry, but dad jokes are a dealbreaker.”

“Dealbreaker?” Yang raised her eyebrows.

“Mhm.”

“Implying...” Yang trailed off, sure that Blake would the reins again.

Instead, Blake’s cheeks flushed and her gaze fell to the ground. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume anythi--”

“Blake.”

She looked up, meeting Yang’s eyes again.

“Look, I’m all for cute banter, but I guess...I’ll be honest, I don’t want this to be the last time I see you. Besides when I watch your videos, I mean, because I am totally going to subscribe when I get back to my room. I could really use some advice on my oily t-zone.”

Blake frowned, but fought off a smile. “Not the smoothest pickup line.”

“Would you prefer smooth? I can do that, too.”

“Really?”

“You don’t believe me?”

Blake’s expression was skeptical, one brow quirked up, lips neutral, barely parted. Yang wasn’t sure if it was an invitation or a challenge, but she wasn’t going to risk overstepping.

When Blake lifted her chin defiantly, though, a stray curl fell out of place and tumbled across her cheek.

Yang’s fingertips barely grazed Blake’s cheek as she guided the curl back, tucking it behind her ear as delicately as possible.

The dark hair was almost distractingly soft, and Yang narrowly remembered that she was on a mission to stay cool.

She let her thumb glide over smooth skin, fingers barely brushing against the hollow under Blake’s jaw.

As Yang let her hand fall away, Blake let out a rushed exhale, releasing a breath she’d apparently been holding a little too long.

“Sweet dreams, Blake,” Yang whispered, determined not to let their growing proximity throw her off.

Blake’s response danced in the inches between them. “Sweet dreams--”

The doorknob turned. They sprang apart as a man opened the door and filled the frame, his forearms leaning against the old wood, taking up as much space as possible.

It was the same red-haired jackass from the elevator.

When he saw Yang, his icy blue eyes grew even colder.

“You.”

With his sunglasses gone, Yang could see a puckered scar over his left eye, a burn whose shape she couldn’t quite make out.

Yang stared at him in disbelief, wondering how he could wrap a litany of accusations in a single, ordinary word. But of course someone who blocked elevator doors for fun would yell at his coworker for something completely outside of her control. Of course he would show up at the worst possible moment.

“Adam,” Blake sputtered.

“I heard talking,” he spat. “I was worried, Blake. Are you coming inside?”

“I--” Blake cut herself off with a bittersweet smile. “One minute.”

“Fine.” Adam pushed off the frame and disappeared into the room, but he left the door ajar.

Blake cast an apologetic look up at Yang. For the first time, Yang noticed that there was quite a gap between their heights.

Was Blake really this short? Maybe she’d been wearing heels earlier.

“I should go,” Blake said softly.

“Do you have breakfast plans?” Yang asked, keeping her voice down.

Blake seemed to shrink into herself even more. “I usually sleep through breakfast.”

“Brunch, then. Lunch, even. Whatever you want.” She hoped that a bright smile would be enough to distract from the intense undercurrent of that last thought.

Fortunately, that sparkle that Yang was quickly coming to adore returned to Blake’s eyes. “Brunch sounds good.”

“Great,” Yang said, making no effort to leave.

“Okay,” Blake replied, just as still.

In all the ways Yang thought this moment might end, there was a splintering, the eventual moment when she had to put distance between herself and Blake. It was too soon, she kept telling herself, to find loss in saying goodbye. But here she was, unwilling to be the one to break the moment. If it broke, would it ever come back together?

She knew she was probably grinning in a way that Ruby would lovingly describe as _goofy_ , but she couldn’t help it.

Suddenly, Blake’s arms were around her.

Yang was stuck blinking at the wall for a second before wrapping her arms around Blake’s waist to return the embrace.

A small part of her said that this was nothing to dwell on. New friends hugged each other, right?

She knew it was a foolish thought, a last-ditch attempt to write off the instant pull she felt towards Blake’s very essence. This wasn’t some superficial attraction. She knew it too well. It was gravity, Yang thought, familiar and inescapable, pulling two bodies towards each other until they collided. And there they were, finally in each other’s orbit, in each other’s arms.

(It still wasn’t close enough.)

“Goodnight,” Blake whispered against the shell of Yang’s ear, and Yang understood how it might feel to be struck by lightning.

Just as quickly as Blake had latched on, she let go and ducked into her room. The door clicked shut behind her.

Yang took a moment to acknowledge that she wasn’t dreaming. She leaned back against the wall, hands behind her head--and realized just too late that they hadn’t picked a time for brunch.

***

When Blake entered the suite, she wasn’t expecting to find it completely overturned. The couch cushions were scattered about the small living room, drawers were barely half-closed, and even the cabinets in the kitchenette were hanging open.

“Did someone break in?” Blake asked, taking in the scene.

“Of course not. Don’t you think I would have told you?” Adam replied. He sat down at the desk in one of the few corners that wasn’t disturbed. He refused to book any hotel room unless it was a suite, claiming that he needed the extra space to set up his own quiet work station. _And you snore_ , he’d informed Blake.

Blake took a few steps towards him. “So what happened?”

“I was looking for my external hard drive.” He tapped a slim, metallic rectangle next to his laptop. “Good news.”

“Glad you found it. I’m going to sleep,” Blake said, flinching at her own tone. If she’d noticed how irritated she sounded, he would, too.

“What?”

Blake went into the bedroom to change, hoping against reason that it would stop whatever argument was likely brewing. They’d already gone at it twice that day, and she was beyond exhausted just from the convention activities. Nothing good ever came from their arguments, and Blake wasn’t sure she liked making up any better.

She found her own suitcase overturned on the bed.

“I said I had good news.”

Blake jumped when she heard Adam’s voice from the door right behind her. She hoped he hadn’t noticed.

“Are you going to ask me what it is?” Adam pushed.

She rolled her eyes as she turned to face him. “I thought you were talking about your hard drive.”

“You have to listen better,” he said, a gentle tone masking his harsh words. They were ones Blake had heard before, more often than not in a raised voice.

Blake was torn--she wanted to ask why exactly her belongings were strewn across the sheets, but she knew that bringing it up would only push him closer to snapping. Did he honestly believe that he’d packed his hard drive in Blake’s suitcase by accident? No. Adam didn’t make mistakes. If she asked anything even mildly incriminating, he would back himself into a corner and claim that she’d caged him there.

“What’s the good news?” Blake sat on the edge of the bed and used what little energy she had left to feign interest in the answer.

Adam straightened, puffing out his chest. “A headhunter reached out to me from a very well-known corporation.”

“Well-known enough that you can’t say what company it is?” Blake guessed.

“Now you’re getting it,” Adam said. “They asked me to sign a non-competitive contract as their chief commercial editor.”

“That’s great, Adam. Congratulations.” Evaluating her own response, she was confident that she sounded supportive and happy enough for the conversation to end there. But as she got up to dig her pajamas out of the mess of clothes, his firm hand caught her by the shoulder.

“Thank you, Blake,” he said. “There’s something I need to ask you.”

“Can it wait until tomorrow? I’m really, really tired.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have stayed out so late.” He said it calmly, but Blake could feel the subtle snarl behind his words. He didn’t like it when she spent time with other people alone, especially people he didn’t know. Especially people like Yang, who rivaled his magnetism without burning half as much fuel.

Blake sat down again and looked up at him, waiting. “What is it?”

“I saw the video your new friend posted,” Adam started. “It could be a problem.”

They’d had this conversation before. Every time Blake said something about sexuality in her videos, he sat her down and walked her through the many, many reasons why that was bad for her brand. It could compromise her career, he said. And where would that leave him, her editor and first fan?

She stayed quiet. It was a touchy subject to being with, and she wasn’t sure yet which version of Adam she was dealing with.

He sat next to her and placed a hand on her back. So tonight was Calm Adam--Blake’s least favorite after Furious. It was dangerously easy to listen to what he had to say when he was playing nice. “You know I support you. I’ve _always_ supported you.” He paused.

He wanted confirmation, so she nodded.

Adam went on. “Pyrrha Nikos has a history of speaking out on issues she knows nothing about. Now that I’m working for a big company, I need you to be more careful about who you associate with. I can’t have other people’s politics affecting my opportunities.”

She very nearly pointed out the irony that he’d spent five years working for her father’s non-profit civil rights group and gotten all of his opportunities as a result, but she held her tongue. Instead, she asked what she hoped would be a harmless question. “So you already took the job?”

“We finalized everything an hour ago.” He frowned. “I thought you’d be happier for me.”

Blake couldn’t take it. “That’s why you missed the awards ceremony?”

Some switch flipped in him, his eyes going cold. Calm Adam was gone in a flash. “You’re right. I should have been there. Maybe I could have stopped you from making such a stupid, selfish mistake.”

Blake stood up. “What mistake, Adam? Coming out publicly? Meeting Pyrrha? Talking to Yang?”

He froze. “Who’s Yang?”

“No one,” Blake backtracked, mentally kicking herself. “Just someone I met at the afterparty.”

“The girl who walked you up here.” He wasn’t asking.

Blake had to fight every instinct she had telling her run out of the room. It wasn’t like she had somewhere else to go--he would lock her out until she apologized for leaving, for acting childish.

“Tell me about her,” he insisted.

“I’m tired, Adam,” Blake said, making for the door.

As predictably as ever, he stepped into her path.

“Blake,” he started, taking her hand less roughly than she’d expected. “I want you to feel like you can tell me things.”

“I do tell you things.” She could feel her lungs burning with the breath she was holding. Even expired air was too much to give him.

“Figuring out this new job has been stressful. I need to feel like you trust me.”

If she didn’t say something soon, he’d take her silence as an invitation.

He stepped closer. “I know I’ve been busy, and I know I said I wanted to focus on my career. But now that everything is settled, I think we should be together. For real this time.”

Blake felt her eyebrows shoot up involuntarily. “I--is that what you wanted to ask me?” She dodged.

Their history was nothing if not complicated, on-and-off, but never official in any capacity. When he’d started at Menagerie United, he’d been a charming, deep, talented recruit straight out of college. Blake, still finishing her last year of high school, thought he was the most interesting person she’d ever met. He cared about real issues, not gossip and petty drama, and he wanted to used his media skills to help people. Most everyone else working at the organization was around Blake’s parents’ ages, so she naturally ended up spending time with Adam at rallies and events.

In his words, it was more important for her to focus on college while he established himself in his field, but he promised he’d wait for her.

Now, apparently, he was done waiting.

She knew Adam--she knew he only acted impulsively when he felt threatened. The way his gaze flickered nervously, searching every part of her face for an answer, was enough to tip her off. Her earlier thought had been correct: he didn’t like Yang, and he hated that Blake did.

Blake slowly pulled away from his hold, shaking her head. “It’s almost 2am.”

His nostrils flared. Blake was fairly certain that he wouldn’t risk getting them kicked out of a convention suite for making too much noise at this hour, but she wanted to be sure.

Hoping to settle him, she patted his chest. “We can talk about it after this weekend is done, okay?”

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch,” he offered. An invitation laced with barbed wire.

She barely paused to grab pajamas from the messy pile of clothes, making sure to take her own shirt and not one of the many belonging to Adam that had migrated into her wardrobe. Then she continued out of the bedroom. “It’s fine. It’s actually comfortable.”

How many times had she lied to him? For him?

Once she’d put the cushions back, she plugged her phone in to charge and settled onto the couch. To her surprise, she had several new messages. Both Ren and Nora had messaged her on Instagram saying how nice it was to meet her, and Pyrrha had done the same via text. Blake had four more messages from a rather strangely named contact.

**Human Traffic Cone**

_hey :D_

_oh shit i just remembered how i saved my name in your phone_

_it’s yang!_

_what time’s good for brunch??_

Blake couldn’t help but smile at her screen.

**Blake Belladonna**

_12?_

**Human Traffic Cone**

_perfect_

**Blake Belladonna**

_See you then._

**Human Traffic Cone**

_i’ll be sure to wear extra neon so u can find me_

Blake bit her lip. It was probably not appropriate to be messaging someone you’d only recently met at 2 o’clock in the morning, and it was definitely not appropriate to consider sending that person things that could be construed as, say, mildly flirtatious. And yet...

**Blake Belladonna**

_You’re pretty hard to miss._

**Human Traffic Cone**

_have you looked in a mirror?_

...Well. At least they were on the same page.

**Blake Belladonna**

_And I thought your other lines were cheesy._

**Human Traffic Cone**

_that’s why they call me cheddar_

Blake laughed out loud.

**Human Traffic Cone**

_i’m so sorry. that was bad even for me_

_i blame the 2 am_

**Blake Belladonna**

_No worries. I’ve edited your contact appropriately._

**Cheddar**

_wow u just get me_

Yes, it was probably supposed to be a joke. Still, Blake felt a distinct warmth blossom between her ribs. If Yang could make her feel that way with a ridiculous, throwaway comment, Blake wasn’t sure how long she’d survive brunch without combusting. With the way the conversation was already going, she might not even make it to brunch.

**Blake Belladonna**

_It was nice to meet you, Yang_

**Cheddar**

_you too!_

_now i must brie off to sleep_

_i camembert to keep my eyes open_

**Blake Belladonna**

_Goodnight, you weirdo_

**Cheddar**

_think you mean goudanight ;)_

Blake smacked her forehead and failed to hide her smile from herself. Oh, she was already a lost cause, wasn’t she?

***


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *youtuber voice* so it's beEN A MINUTE--
> 
> sometimes shit happens and you have to write a 60k catradora smut fic, don't worry about it. 
> 
> this fic is far from abandoned. i love her dearly, she's outlined, she's happening. i'll be posting another chapter over the holidays, and i'm hoping it'll be wrapping up right around the time the mini-hiatus starts. 
> 
> thank you for reading <3

When Blake woke up and checked her phone, she spent a moment wondering why she had several texts from a piece of cheese. Maybe she was still asleep - she always had strange dreams when she slept in unfamiliar places.

Years ago, the first time she’d stayed over at Adam’s, she’d had a gruesome nightmare about a man in a mask with a blood-red sword. She still felt a chill in her bones when she thought about it, so she tried to push it from her mind. Somehow, the invasive images often found opportunities to creep in, waiting for that moment between awake and asleep when her mind was finally quiet enough to invade.

Adam was already up and on a call in the hotel’s business center, according to a very long text he’d sent her. Blake didn’t bother to read the whole thing, skimming through and finding nothing but florid, hollow declarations and half-apologies. He just wanted to protect her, he cared about her, etcetera. It was nothing Blake wanted swirling around in her head first thing in the morning.

Her phone buzzed again, and she remembered that the piece of cheese was in fact a person.

Blake felt her heart lurch. She turned the thought over, part of her questioning whether this brunch was, in fact, a date, but then she remembered how at ease she’d felt talking with Yang. How much _fun_ she’d had. How she’d felt like every moment they spent together was her choice rather than a vice grip around her wrist. To say it felt refreshing would be a vast understatement.

She opened Yang’s messages.

**Cheddar**

_breaking news_

_you know that shitty redditor mercury black?_

_he just took credit for screwing pyrrha’s channel over_

_three more of her videos got taken down_

_oops just kidding, four_

_her producer is flying in soon_

_he was coming anyway for the party tonight but now he’s getting in a whole three hours earlier_

_also let me know if you want me to stop live tweeting updates to you lol_

Blake smiled.

**Blake Belladonna**

_No, I appreciate it. I’m invested._

_The plot thickens..._

_Any brilliant ideas for saving her channel?_

Cheddar

_currently brainstorming in the breakfast room_

_feel free to join us!_

_we can pregame brunch ;D_

Thankfully, Blake considered putting together great outfits on short notice to be one of her biggest strengths.

***

Yang, Weiss, Ruby, and Pyrrha sat in the hotel restaurant arguing over whether continental breakfast had any business calling itself a complete meal. According to Weiss, it wasn’t _supposed_ to be a full meal, but Yang and Ruby thought it was criminal to even compare a spread of sad muffins and pastries to breakfast. Nora and Ren had volunteered to go to the airport to pick up Jaune, who’d immediately rebooked his flight when he’d heard about the attack on Pyrrha’s channel.

“I can’t believe it. Who does this greasy little freak think he is?” Weiss said as she read the incensing Reddit post again. “Mercury Black. That’s obviously not his real name.”

“It’s a little edgelordy,” Yang agreed.

“He looks more like a Josh. Or a Brad,” Ruby chimed in.

“Perhaps a Parker?” Pyrrha suggested.

Yang finished spreading peanut butter on a piece of toast. “No way. He’s a Carl,” she declared.

“Carl?” Weiss repeated, pausing with her danish halfway to her mouth.

“Yup. I’ll bet Brad and Parker shoved him into lockers in middle school.”

Yang took a bite of her toast, but it promptly fell out of her gaping mouth and landed peanut butter side down. Whatever cosmic force had led Blake to wear tight black jeans and a sheer-shouldered, deep violet top today, Yang thanked it profusely.

“Yang, that’s disgusting,” Weiss reprimanded, pointing to the fallen bite of bread.

“Sorry,” Yang said absently. She hopped up from her seat.

Blake greeted the group with the most nonchalant “Hey,” like she knew exactly what she was doing walking in looking like that.

“Morning,” Yang said, sweeping a chair away from another table and up to theirs in one motion.

“Just barely. Thanks,” Blake said, letting her hand curl over Yang’s atop the chair back.

“No problem,” Yang replied. She knew the group had important things to discuss, but this moment felt vital, somehow. The same wave that washed over her now at Blake’s touch meant that she hadn’t completely imagined everything: Blake sweeping past her in the lobby, smiling up at her in a crowded room, whispering in her ear with such dire electricity. Wishing their _Goodnight_ had been a lie.

If Weiss hadn’t been so preoccupied with her boiling rage towards Mercury Black, she might have reminded Yang to surface and breath. But Weiss didn’t say anything, and Yang was happy to drown in the simplest of moments.

Ruby was the one who finally snapped the moment. “Blake! Hi!”

“Morning, Miss Rising Star,” Blake returned.

“How does it feel to know 8 million people voted for you?” Yang joined in.

“Completely the same,” Ruby said matter-of-factly. “I mean, it’s so, _so_ cool, but it’s not like these muffins suddenly taste different or anything.”

As soon as Blake was seated, Weiss took the opportunity to fill in the gaps in Yang’s morning’s news updates. Mercury Black was an infamous Redditor known for his controversial reaction videos about games, movies, social issues, and really anything that would attract an audience of like-minded morons. He proudly claimed the title of devil’s advocate in any and every situation, leading Weiss to label his own principles “flexible at best.” He would say anything just to get a rise out of someone, but starting a direct feud was new for him.

“Usually he just watches more successful people fight and makes up fake scandals to fuel both sides and feign his own relevance,” Weiss explained. “He’s abhorrent.”

“Did he say why he targeted Pyrrha?” Blake asked.

Pyrrha shook her head. “His post this morning was rather vague.”

“And poorly proofread,” Weiss added.

“He called Pyrrha’s videos propaganda,” Ruby said. “Propaganda for what? Being nice to yourself?”

“I’m fairly certain he doesn’t even know what that word means. He doesn’t know how to spell it, that’s for sure.”

Ordinarily, Yang would’ve chosen that moment to tease Weiss about how she was pointedly avoiding looking at Pyrrha, who had come to breakfast directly from the gym and hadn’t bothered changing out of her workout clothes. But when Blake happened to catch her eye again, Yang forgot whatever smart-ass comment had been ready to roll off her tongue.

“Guys?” Ruby squeaked. “He just posted a video.”

Weiss snatched Ruby’s phone out of her hand and pressed play.

_“Good morning, VidCon fans. You probably wish you weren’t watching this, but you just can’t look away, can you? I’m here to let you all in on a secret. Pyrrha Nikos is a fraud. Her noble crusade against the Schnee Dust Company is a distraction to distract you from the fact that her newest sponsor, Beacon Athletica, has some major skeletons in their closet. Pyrrha talks big, but she’s just another pawn in a corporate chess game. Fortunately, there’s a third team on the board, and I am its bishop of truth. In my next video, I will prove just how corrupt she is. Be sure to subscribe and share so--”_

Weiss hit pause before he could continue with whatever annoying outro he had planned. If she rolled her eyes any harder, Yang was confident they would fall right out of her head. Blake didn’t look any more impressed.

“That was... weird,” Ruby said.

Pyrrha nodded. “My deal with Beacon fell through specifically because I couldn’t support their allergen testing procedures on animals.”

“I don’t think he understands chess at all,” Ruby added.

Blake nodded in agreement. “Not even a little. He also used the words ‘distraction’ and ‘distract’ right next to each other. That whole video was just radical claims with absolutely no evidence to back it up.”

“Because there _is_ no evidence,” Ruby pointed out. “Pyrrha would never!”

“And that ending?” Yang laughed. “This guy’s trying so hard. I hate announcement videos. Don’t tell us that you’re going to tell us something later. Why not just tell us now?”

Weiss stood up and started pacing behind the table. “Does Mercury Black really strike you as the type to come up with this sort of scheme on his own?”

“What do you mean?” Pyrrha asked, turning around in her chair to face Weiss.

Weiss kept it up. “If you look back through his uploads, there’s no semblance of a schedule, and he’s certainly never done this kind of announcement video before. His channel is all about shock value. He didn’t even make himself the king in his convoluted disaster of a chess metaphor.”

Yang raised her hand. “So you think he’s working with someone?”

“For, more likely. There’s no proof that Pyrrha has done anything wrong - because she hasn’t, obviously - so that sign-off is intended to spark rumors. He’ll probably never post a follow-up video, but people will be searching for any reason to call Pyrrha out for a while. Whoever Mercury is working for must have time-sensitive reason to drag Pyrrha’s reputation under the bus, even if he can’t deliver on his promise of actual evidence. Somebody is very personally invested in ruining her livelihood, and I suspect I know who.” She was circling their table so quickly that Yang wondered if she might burn a hole through the floor.

Pyrrha reached out and grabbed Weiss’ hand, stopping her in her tracks. “Weiss, I appreciate all of the thought you’re putting into this, but I really don’t think it’s worth getting so worked up about. Nasty comments are something I’m used to dealing with. I’ll be just fine, okay?”

Weiss shook her head. “Ruby, check if there’s any breaking news about the Schnee Dust Company.”

Ruby pouted. “Weiss, you’re supposed to say please--”

 _“Please_ check if there’s any news _.”_

A few keystrokes later, Ruby gasped.

“Did you find something?” Blake asked.

Ruby nodded gravely. “They’re rolling out a new line of organic Dust products at the end of the week.” She showed the screen to Weiss. “They just announced it this morning.”

“Organic? As if that makes them any less harmful. Well, there you have it,” Weiss said, vindicated. “My father knows that Pyrrha’s big win last night is going to affect the product launch. She’s sure to gain an influx of viewers and subscribers, and now none of them will be able to hear what she thinks about his horrible diet products.”

“I talked about Dust in four of the five videos that have been taken down so far. Mostly Q&A’s,” Pyrrha added. “But all of this started with that yoga video. My voiceover for that is just general instruction.”

“Targeting that video first was a smokescreen. I knew this plan was too clever for Reddit.”

Yang took a peek at the article Ruby had pulled up. There was Weiss’ dad in all his white-suited, mustachioed, glory, presenting at a conference full of other expensive suits and evil mustaches. “Damn, Weiss. You’d be a really good shady businessperson.”

“Unfortunately,” Weiss said begrudgingly.

Another image in the article showed a blonde woman with a hand on Jacques’ shoulder. At a glance, one might assume it was his reclusive wife, but Yang knew better. She’d met Willow Schnee once, and she was hardly more than a shell of a personality. This was someone else, someone who carried herself with none of Jacques’ bluster, twice his competence, and a whole lot more malice. Moments ago, Yang would have thought that impossible, but this woman looked like she’d never so much as fathomed the possibility that she might not be able to achieve exactly what she wanted by any means she deemed necessary.

“Idea!” Ruby announced, standing up to join Weiss. “While Jaune works on getting Pyrrha’s videos unbanned, the rest of us can make our own about Dust and why it’s bad. If the Dust Company is behind the attacks on Pyrrha’s channel, we can completely foil their nefarious plan. If Weiss is wrong--”

“Hey,” Weiss interrupted, indignant. 

“--And they aren’t the ones doing it, people should still know those products are dangerous and bad. Like they said before raiding Area 51, they can’t stop all of us!” Ruby thrust a fist in the air.

Yang put the phone down on the table. “As much as I love the visual of all of us storming the Schnee building in camo cargo pants, I don’t think we should be aiming for Area 51 Raid levels of success here.”

“People got seriously injured. And arrested,” Weiss noted.

“We’ll be fine!” Ruby insisted.

“I admire your optimism, Ruby, but it’s dangerous to declare a public war on an entire corporation,” Blake said. “My parents run Menagerie United, a civil rights non-profit. They have an entire division focused on helping people with workplace discrimination suits, and we dealt with the SDC a lot. Trust me, even when a case seems black-and-white, huge companies have enough resources to paint everything gray.”

“Pyrrha?” Ruby asked. “What do you think?”

“I don’t want all of you to get into any trouble on my behalf,” Pyrrha said. “It’s very kind of you to offer, but it’s alright. I’ll be just fine. Really.”

“Are you trying to convince us or yourself?” Weiss said pointedly.

Pyrrha failed to hide her surprise at Weiss’ tone. “I...”

Yang was impressed with her straightforwardness. This wasn’t just about Weiss’ quickly blossoming crush - it was personal for her on a whole other level.

“Yang’s video certainly made a splash yesterday. And the hashtag might have been your best idea yet,” Weiss said.

“Can you take screenshots in real life? Because I want to frame that confession,” Yang said.

Weiss rolled right past the jab, her focus carrying her through. “We want to stay a step ahead of the SDC, so subterfuge is key. Keep speaking out against Dust and supporting Pyrrha across platforms. They _can_ stop all of you, eventually, but not instantaneously. Encourage people to flood Dust tags with real information. If we play this right, you can do some real damage before they’re able to organize themselves. Hopefully most of their publicity team will be focused on the product launch instead of dragging Pyrrha down further. As far as they’re concerned, she’s been silenced, and it took them this long to come after her in the first place. By the time they get their Reddit hackers and lawyers lined up, a million people could have heard the truth.”

Pyrrha looked up at Weiss. “Are you sure this isn’t too dangerous?”

Weiss steeled herself. “I know what my father is capable of. He’s greedy, prideful, cruel, selfish, arrogant, paranoid, bigoted...”

Pyrrha’s eyes widened in concern as Weiss counted each word on her fingers.

“Weiss,” Ruby cautioned.

Fortunately, Weiss took the hint. “And all of that means he won’t risk getting his own hands dirty. For now, he’s only as powerful as the people he’s paying to roll around in the mud for him. Besides,” she tentatively settled her palm over Pyrrha’s bare shoulder, “friends take risks for each other, right?”

Pyrrha placed her hand atop Weiss’ and offered an appreciative smile.

Weiss nodded, answering her own question.

Pyrrha’s phone chimed brightly. “Jaune’s here,” she said. “I should go speak with him. Weiss, would you come inform everyone else of your plan?”

“Of course. We have a lot of work to do.”

Once they were gone, Ruby looked between Yang and Blake at the table.

“So you guys want to make a video?” Ruby asked.

“Yes,” Yang started, “but first can we talk about how great Weiss was just now?”

“It was impressive how she put all that together,” Blake agreed. “A little scary, but impressive.”

“What a perfect description of our beloved ice queen.”

Ruby nodded. “She got her dad’s evil business brain, but she uses it for good.”

“We raised her so well,” Yang half-joked.

She knew they couldn’t take full credit for Weiss’ strong sense of justice, but they’d seen how suffocating her father’s grasp could be on his family members. It was a miracle that Weiss had come so far, really.

“What kind of video were you thinking, Ruby?” Blake asked.

“Hmmm... I don’t know yet.” Ruby’s phone buzzed. “Wow, Weiss works fast. Looks like Ren and Nora already posted something. Wait, did they livestream their ride back from the airport?”

Yang turned to Blake. “I don’t usually wear makeup, but would you want to do mine for a video? If you don’t mind a rain check on brunch.”

“Sure. I just have autographs at one,” Blake said. “Maybe we can do something about that oily t-zone.”

“Finally. My prayers have been answered.”

“I said maybe. No promises...”

“You seem like you know what you’re doing.”

“Oooooookay,” Ruby cut in, “I’m gonna go see if Penny has any ideas.”

“Aww, too cool to hang out with your sister now that you’re a bigshot?”

Blake blinked as if she was remembering that another person was at the table. “You’re welcome to join us, Ruby. I could do your makeup, too.” 

“Mmm, nope! The more content the better. You guys have fun!” Ruby leaned across the table and hissed at Yang, “I am not third-wheeling you for an entire video.”

Yang glanced at Blake, who had definitely heard all of that and was now hiding a laugh behind her hand. Oh, well. Subtlety had never been part of Yang’s brand, professional or otherwise. It was overrated anyway.

“Let me grab my stuff,” Blake said.

***

“Please tell me that’s the last bag,” Yang said.

“I had to bring options! I wasn’t sure what would match your skin tone.” Blake had already covered the coffee table with a dozen different foundations, eyeshadow palettes for every imaginable occasion, and plenty of powders and creams whose role in all of this remained mysterious. Now she was pulling out what was either eyeliner or lipliner. Probably several of each, actually.

They were set up on the couch in Yang’s room, angled so that the curtained window behind Yang’s back filtered in softened midday sun. Blake’s ring light filled in the slight shadows.

“We could have done this up in your room. Then you wouldn’t have had to U-Haul your entire arsenal into my suite.”

Yang made jokes like that in her videos all the time, but she wondered if she should tone it down for this. Holding back the urge to flirt with Blake might be a bit of a challenge, but her fans had gone after Pyrrha for one stupid tweet, and she didn’t want the same to happen to Blake. They’d decided to do another Instagram livestream to get the word out fast, but that meant no editing. Plus, normally Yang would have made a point of going over some ground rules on what kind of humor her collaborators were comfortable with, but this whole plan had been a whirlwind. Fortunately, Blake didn’t seem fazed by the comment. She was much too focused on sorting through her thousands of compacts.

Blake held up two foundation options. “Alright, we’re going to have to blend.”

“Those are the same color.”

Blake gave her a look, or maybe she was just scrutinizing Yang’s skin. “Not quite. With a red dress, I don’t want to draw too much extra attention to your warm undertones.”

“Maybe I like drawing attention to my warm undertones.”

“You want me to make you look like a tomato?”

“You’re the professional.” Yang caught herself punctuating the thought with the laugh she hated, the loud one that only came out when she knew she had an audience.

“How do you feel about tightlining?” Blake asked, holding up a stick of rich, dark brown eyeliner.

“I kind of forgot that letting you do my makeup meant pointy things right by my eye.”

“We don’t have to do it.”

“Let’s see when we get there.”

“Sure. We can take it slow.”

“How chivalrous,” Yang teased. She had to remind herself once again to reel it in - there was a fine line between making a fun collab video and inspiring her fans to turn their misplaced, jealous ire on Blake.

It didn’t help that Blake was totally in her element, taking charge and saying things like tightlining. Which, granted, was not a particularly loaded word, but it was difficult for Yang not to comment on how _warm undertones_ was a funny way of calling her hot.

By the time Blake had the foundation layer done, Yang had steered them towards a discussion of the convention in general and then to Pyrrha, prompting Blake to slide right into talking about how wonderful and kind she’d found the fitness queen upon meeting her for the first time that weekend. As a fellow YouTuber with ostensibly no personal investment in the situation, Blake’s sympathy for Pyrrha’s predicament simply came off as good-natured, professional solidarity rather than someone defending a close friend. As Weiss had warned, it would be easy for the Dust Company to put a negative spin on a “clique of twenty-somethings throwing a public tantrum.” Yang and all of their friends were biased, having known Pyrrha for years, so getting a new voice like Blake to speak in support of her would lend a sheen of outside credibility to this whole movement.

Plus, it was an excuse to spend more time with her, and Yang wasn’t complaining.

“Alright, foundation’s done,” Blake said, snapping a compact closed.

Yang looked at herself in the ring light mirror. “I look exactly the same.”

“I went pretty light on the application. Your skin’s basically flawless, and your freckles are too cute to cover up.”

Yang was glad the foundation came first - hopefully it wasn’t too obvious when her cheeks flared pink. Damn warm undertones. “So what’s next?”

“Well, hopefully Pyrrha finds a way to get her videos back up.”

“I mean what are you gonna do to my face?”

“Oh,” Blake laughed. She held up a tiny tube and one of the palettes, a habit from showing off products in her own videos. “Primer, then eyeshadow.”

As Blake uncapped the tube, Yang tried not to get caught up in the practiced, confident movements of her fingers. Blake could probably do all of this with her eyes closed, but she put so much care into everything she did. It showed in the perfect symmetry of her final looks (maybe Yang had watched a few videos last night before sleeping) and it was also there, more subtly, in how she talked. Always thoughtful.

“I didn’t know people actually used primer,” Yang commented. “I always thought it was kind of pointless.”

“I don’t like to use it every day, but it’s good if you need a look to last.”

“It makes my eyelashes all gummy.”

“You’re probably buying cheap primer. Or putting it on wrong.”

“Good thing you’re here to show me how it’s done.”

Blake hummed in agreement. “Eyes closed.”

Yang did as she was told. Blake’s finger smoothed something cool over her left eyelid, then her right.

“Stop blinking,” Blake laughed.

“How am I blinking? My eyes are closed.”

“Behave or I’ll turn this into a 2004 Disney Channel makeup demo.”

Yang gasped as she opened her eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

Blake rummaged through her closest makeup bag. “Pretty sure there’s bubblegum lipgloss in here somewhere...”

“Somewhere in your five thousand bags of stuff?”

“Don’t make me dig out the baby blue eyeshadow.”

“I think I could make it work.”

Blake shot her a challenging look, daring - and for a split second, Yang forgot there was an audience altogether.

Then she remembered the camera, the ring light, and the thousands of people watching their every move. “Alright, guys,” Yang said, putting on a bright smile for their viewers. “What do you think? Should we do blue?”

Blake picked up the phone from the table and glanced through the spike in comments on the stream. “Someone wants me to make you look like Avril Lavigne.”

“Is it bad that I don’t hate that idea?”

“You would look good in a tie,” Blake said, painfully casually.

She was really set on making this as difficult as possible, wasn’t she?

“Tragically, I already have a plan.” Blake opened a gold palette.

Yang knew this already, but she was happy to play along for the sake of banter, especially if it got Blake to look at her like they were skimming over the surface of a secret in plain sight.

Earlier, Blake had asked to see her dress for the party that night - Weiss had insisted on picking out _one_ of Yang’s formal outfits in the desperate hope that she wouldn’t dress like a construction worker the whole weekend. This particular event was going to have the most advertisers, brand managers, and generally important people at it, and Weiss had proven she couldn’t shut off all of her Schnee business instincts. Yang was finding herself all the more agreeable to the idea of dressing up after the first night of the convention, though it wasn’t the advertisers she cared to impress.

“Eyes closed,” Blake said again.

Yang let her eyes flutter shut. For a moment, she stayed suspended in the image imprinted on the back of her eyelids: Blake, moving closer, distinctly looking lower than Yang’s eyes. She hadn’t been glancing down at the palette.

“You said you’re going easy on the accessories, right?” Blake narrated, “Because that means I can do a little more on your eyes without totally distracting from what you’re wearing.”

The brush touched Yang’s skin, feather-light. “You can do whatever you want,” Yang said. She hadn’t been able to think of anything else to say, but that was definitely not the chill, laid-back energy she was going for. “Fuck clothes,” she added - and yeah, that didn’t fix it.

Blake lifted the brush away, pausing, and Yang hoped it was because she needed to reapply from the palette. “Whatever I want?” she asked, a little too quietly.

“I said what I said.” Yang didn’t mean to, but her answer matched Blake’s volume. The phone mic might not have even picked it up, but that was probably for the best. Besides, technical issues happened all the time on livestreams. They had an excuse, at least.

“What if I wanted to paint your whole face green?”

“Shrek is in this season,” Yang said. When she heard Blake laugh, she had to crack an eye open against orders.

With both of her hands occupied, Blake couldn’t cover her smile, and Yang felt it mirror on her own face.

Blake pivoted them back to the subject of the convention while she brushed gold over Yang’s eyes. Panels, parties, reminders of when and where people could get autographs. Despite the fact that she usually filmed from a script, Blake was a natural at thinking on her feet and making it sound completely organic. It was like she knew all of her lines without even rehearsing, effortlessly sliding into the spotlight like she was born to be there. As a result, the whole thing felt like a normal conversation, and it was dangerously easy to forget that the camera was still there.

Yet another thread of mystique laid bare, twice as confounding in its plainness than in obscurity.

“Okay,” Blake finally announced. “You’re just about done.”

“Mascara?” Yang asked.

“Not yet, but I won’t do too much,” Blake reassured. “A little goes a long way, especially with tightlining.”

“Ugh. I forgot I agreed to that. Do we have to?”

“Yes. They’ll cancel the entire convention if we don’t,” Blake deadpanned.

“Fine, fine. Do it for the fans, Blake.”

Blake shook her head, smiling. “I know it’s not the most comfortable thing to have someone else do. We can try a different--”

“It’s fine. I trust you.”

Blake’s gaze snapped to her, unblinking.

Yang shrugged, hoping to write it off. “You’re the professional, right?” she repeated, breaking nothing.

It was impossible to keep this up without something shifting, so Yang moved before the universe could. She spun around and laid back, her feet hanging over the arm of the couch and her head landing on Blake’s crossed legs. Why exactly she’d thought this would solve the problem was unclear, but it was too late to backtrack.

“Go for it,” Yang said.

“Are you sure?” Blake said, her tone so much lighter than the charged gaze boring into Yang’s essence.

“I won’t move. Promise.”

Neither of them said anything while Blake moved the pencil in a single slow, practiced stroke, her other hand set against Yang’s cheek, encouraging her to stay still. Yang just looked up at her, careful not to blink.

When she finished applying the liner and a touch of mascara, Blake leaned down and looked between Yang’s eyes. She could very easily be checking her work - that’s was obviously what she was doing - but Yang was hardly convinced herself.

Probably better not to read the comments on this one.

“You’re good,” Blake said too softly.

“What was that?” Yang asked, with a loud, broad smile, prompting her against her own wishes to remember that they were alone with an audience of thousands.

Blake’s voice brightened, sparkled. “I said it looks good.”

“Great,” Yang sat up, facing the camera and mirror. “Oh, whoa.”

“You like it?” Blake asked.

“I look _hot,”_ Yang said, knowing she shouldn’t. It opened way too many doors that she needed to close right away. “Well, thank you so much, Blake Belladonna of Belladonna Beauty,” she said, quickly shifting into outro mode. “Please feel free to come back any time and make me look even more awesome.”

Blake smiled, but it wasn’t for the camera. “Thanks for having me. Oh, wait. Last thing.”

“What?”

“Lips.”

“Right. Forgot I had those,” Yang said, her chuckle coming out more as a nervous exhale. She wasn’t going to make it through this, she just wasn’t. She needed an excuse, fast. “Actually, my battery’s almost dead, so I think we’ll have to do that off stream.”

“No problem.”

“Okay, bye everyone!” Yang said, shutting off the stream. It wasn’t the most elegant ending to a video, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Her head was too full with thoughts of ruined lipstick.

Blake sat perfectly still next to her, watching silently.

“What?” Yang asked.

Blake raised an eyebrow. “You forgot your tag line.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s fine. I don’t always do it on livestreams,” Yang dismissed. “My brand is flexible.”

“Did you want me to...?” Blake shifted a little closer on the couch and held up a stout, golden tube.

Blake had probably worn that shade herself at some point. Matched it to the perfect curve of her mouth.

Yang hadn’t intended for them to get here this fast, but it felt so natural. So easy. Inevitable, maybe. For all her elegance, Blake hadn’t made a point of being subtle, either. It would be a crime to turn back now and leave them both hanging over the edge, wouldn’t it?

Yang plucked the tube out of Blake’s hand and rolled the cool metal over her fingers. “Honestly, I’m not big on lipstick.”

“Why’s that?”

“Too restrictive,” Yang explained, setting the tube on the table. “I don’t like not being able to do things right when I want to.”

Blake cocked her head, daring Yang to go on. “Like what?” she asked without a shred of innocence.

“You know. Drinking. Eating.” Yang paused - not hesitating, but anticipating. “Kissing.”

“Oh,” Blake taunted, “Were you planning on doing a lot of that at the party?”

“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to wait until tonight,” Yang said. 

“Then don’t.”

Yang would have leaned in, but they’d already drifted so close that there was hardly enough distance left to cross.

Blake’s phone chose right then to go off, and Yang could have snapped the thing in half.

“I have to go,” Blake said wistfully, dropping her gaze but making no point of widening the gap between them. “Autographs.”

Yang bit her lip, considering, just for a moment, that Blake could be late to her event. But Yang had her own fans to attend to, and both of them running late right after that livestream would raise questions that neither of them would be able to answer. She settled for brushing her lips against Blake’s cheek and pulling back.

She plucked the gold tube from the table. “Mind if I borrow this for the party?”

Blake shook her head slightly.

“I’d hate to leave my look unfinished,” Yang added.

“Well, I can’t wait to see it later. When it is finished.”

Yang felt like she had to un-velcro herself from the couch. “Bye, Blake.”

“See you tonight, Yang.”

***

Weiss just stared at her screen as Yang’s livestream ended. “They’re totally going to hook up, right?”

“I’d be surprised if they didn’t eventually,” Pyrrha chuckled. “Unfortunately, Yang’s fans seem to have come to the same conclusion.”

“I’ll be sure to steer her away from the comments,” Weiss said. She tapped the lid of her coffee cup, glancing around the cafe. Pyrrha had asked to get away from the convention for a while, and Weiss had suggested they go somewhere closer to the edge of the city to avoid convention crowds. They’d driven almost twenty minutes before spotting a standalone coffee shop, which turned out to be a very good choice both in terms of caffeination and avoiding recognition. “Anything from Jaune yet?”

“I’m sure he’ll have something soon. He’s working on it,” Pyrrha said, painting an obvious coat of optimism over her words.

“Pyrrha,” Weiss began, unwilling to put up with this sham of positivity for another minute. “I know we only officially met yesterday, but we’ve both known Yang a long time, so I feel as though we’re friends.”

“We are friends, Weiss.”

“Then can I be honest with you?”

“By all means,” Pyrrha invited cheerfully.

“Stop pretending that you’re fine with all this. Do what you have to do in front of the cameras, but don’t lie to all of us.”

Pyrrha’s perfect posture slipped as her shoulders sank.

Weiss wanted to reach out, but she wasn’t sure if she’d already crossed a line. “I’m sorry if that was a little harsh, but--”

“No, you’re right,” Pyrrha said. “Jaune said the same thing when we spoke last night, but it’s easier to ignore good advice when it’s not given in person.” A small, sad smile flashed on her lips. 

“Yes, well,” Weiss cleared her throat. “I’m here now, in person, and I just bought you coffee, so you have to listen to me.”

Pyrrha smiled down at her coffee cup. “Noted.”

“If I’m right and my father is involved with all of this, he’s certainly not working alone. So why should you?”

“I suppose I shouldn’t.”

“I promise that all of this is going to get worse before it gets better.”

To Weiss’ surprise, Pyrrha started laughing.

Weiss crossed her arms indignantly. “What? I’m not joking.”

“Your honesty is refreshing. That’s all.”

“Hmph. Well, in that case, you’re welcome.”

Pyrrha’s eye twinkled. “Thank you, Weiss. And thank you for getting me away from the chaos for a bit. I don’t think I could have stood and smiled for pictures all afternoon with everything that’s going on. You have a good eye for coffee shops.”

Weiss simply nodded curtly. She knew she wasn’t the best at accepting compliments, even small ones, but that wasn’t something Pyrrha needed to know. With Weiss’ luck, Yang or Ruby would mention it at the most embarrassing moment they could find.

“So when did you start playing piano?” Pyrrha asked, sipping her drink.

“Ugh,” Weiss groaned. “I can’t believe Yang showed you my channel.”

“She just played a recording for me,” Pyrrha said. Her smile brightened. “You have a whole channel?”

“No. Not a channel. Just a... page.”

“Like a website?”

Weiss tried to think of something, but no explanation came. She dropped her forehead to the table top. “Yes, I have a private music channel,” she grumbled.

“If you’re shy about sharing it, I won’t tell anybody,” Pyrrha said conspiratorially.

“I’m not shy!” Weiss exclaimed, lifting her head off the table without realizing that Pyrrha had moved in closer. When she looked up, Pyrrha was right there in front of her, an unbearably cute grin breaking out. “I am not shy,” Weiss reiterated, much more composed. “I simply prefer to keep knowledge of my musical endeavors within a very small circle of trusted individuals.”

“Well, should you ever feel so inclined to expand that circle to one more person, I would love to hear some of your other songs.”

Weiss tapped her cup again. This was quickly becoming a nervous habit, and Weiss Schnee did not _have_ nervous habits. She didn’t get nervous, period. “I’ll think about it,” she said. “Out of curiosity, what song did Yang play for you?”

“Hm,” Pyrrha rubbed her chin. “I believe it was called ‘Broken Glass.’”

Weiss felt the blood drain from her face. “Really?”

“Ruby mentioned that you recorded all of the instrumental parts on your own. The cello line was really beautiful. ”

“Thank you,” Weiss said, clipped and automatic.

“Can I ask what inspired it?”

Weiss stared down at her cup in her hands, rotating it until the lip lined up in perfect symmetry with her thumbs. “Well...”

“If you’d rather not talk about it, I understand.”

“No,” Weiss said quickly. “No, that’s not... no one’s ever really asked me that before.”

“Really?” Pyrrha sounded skeptical.

“Well, not outright. Ruby and Yang probably came to fairly accurate conclusions on their own.”

“I didn’t mean to be rude,” Pyrrha said. “I’m sorry.”

Weiss’ hand reached out without her telling it to. She stopped it before it landed on Pyrrha’s, leaving it awkward and limp in the middle of the table. “You weren’t. Really. It’s just not what I would call light cafe conversation.” 

“Another time, then.”

“It’s just that I hardly even tell people about my music in the first place, and now you know about the channel, and--”

Pyrrha’s hand covered Weiss’ own, which had flailed onto its back like a beached fish. “Weiss,” Pyrrha said gently. “It’s alright.” 

“Yes,” Weiss said definitively, unsure whether she was agreeing with Pyrrha or simply trying to convince herself. “We should probably get back to the convention.”

“I can drive,” Pyrrha offered.

Normally, Weiss wouldn’t let anyone else handle a rental car that was in her name, but she had to admit that she was a little worked up from the whole conversation and didn’t necessarily trust herself to navigate right at that moment. Plus, this was Pyrrha, the most responsible person on the planet. If the wind so much as blew on the car too hard, she’d probably apologize and try to pay for any damage.

A few minutes into the drive, Weiss couldn’t come up with a new line of discussion. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk about her songs - she very much did, truth be told, but she didn’t usually make a point of revealing her biggest secrets to people within a day of meeting them. Sure, technically this was Yang’s fault and not at all Weiss’ own doing, but it was almost worse that Pyrrha was letting Weiss say more at her own pace. Regardless of how Weiss felt about Yang sharing her music, this whole situation would be a lot easier if someone else would make the choice to open up for her.

“Well. Congratulations. You’re officially the fourth person in the world to know that I write songs. Including myself,” Weiss said. A little colder than intended, but Pyrrha didn’t seem to flinch.

“I was wondering why I’d never seen you play in Yang or Ruby’s videos before. I’d have thought they would jump at the chance to show you off.” Pyrrha flashed a sideways smile, quickly returning her eyes to the road like a responsible driver.

Weiss laughed dryly. “Oh, they’ve tried, believe me. But I have no interest in taking advantage of nor partaking in their fame. It’s exhausting having strangers think they know you, even if it gets you free Oreos now and then.”

Pyrrha came to a complete stop at an intersection, and Yang definitely would have bullied Weiss for finding it so attractive. “I imagine growing up with your father in such a public position put you on the flashing side of a camera more often than most children,” she said.

“I--yes,” Weiss replied plainly.

“So you don’t secretly dream of being a rock star?” Even while teasing, Pyrrha sounded like she cared so genuinely about the response.

“Doesn’t everyone?”

Pyrrha shrugged. “I can’t say I do, but I’ve never been much of a musician. My first year of high school, we all had to choose a performing arts elective. I had no experience and marching band wasn’t turning anyone away, so I figured I’d give it a try. I couldn’t get a decent sound out of any of the brass instruments. At first they were excited about putting me on percussion because I was strong enough to carry the bass drum without getting tired, but then it turned out I had terrible rhythm.”

Weiss faked a gasped. “You’re telling me the great Pyrrha Nikos was bad at something?”

“I was _so_ bad that they asked me to switch to drama after one semester.”

“Wait, really?”

“Truly. I think my mother has a video somewhere.”

Weiss stifled a laugh. Normally she was too nervous to talk when someone else was driving, but she hadn’t remembered to be paranoid about proper braking distance once the whole ride. “It was brave of you to try something new like that. I certainly wasn’t so bold in high school.”

“It was a good experience. I stayed friends with a number of the band members even after leaving. That’s where I met Jaune, actually.”

“What did he play?”

“Tuba.”

Weiss had only met Jaune briefly that morning, but it made perfect sense.

“Now that you know about my complete lack of musical talent, I hope you also know that I’d pass absolutely no judgment if you ever feel like playing one of your songs for me,” Pyrrha said.

“I’ll... keep that in mind.”

“And Weiss?”

“Yes?”

“If this whole mess with my channel does turn out to involve your father, promise you’ll let us be there for you, too.”

Weiss hesitated a moment too long, and she knew it. “Right.”

“I mean it. You don’t have to pretend you’re fine with all of this, either.”

If there was one thing Weiss Schnee was not going to do, it was cry in her own rental car while someone else was driving. She turned to look out her window and wiped at her eyes before any evidence could make itself known. “Of course I know that. I just said it to _you_ twenty minutes ago.”

“Just reminding you of your own wisdom,” Pyrrha said, her smile audible.

***

**Blake Belladonna**

_60_

**Cheddar**

_nooooo_

_i took a two minute break and u caught up_

**Blake Belladonna**

_What did you stop at?_

**Cheddar**

_54 :(_

**Blake Belladonna**

_Better work fast..._

**Cheddar**

_is it cheating if i use both hands?_

**Blake Belladonna**

_You can write with both hands?_

**Cheddar**

_let’s find out_

_no_

_sorry to whoever got that autograph_

_(i redid it)_

**Blake Belladonna**

_Throwing away your chance at winning for a fan_

_How noble_

**Cheddar**

_can i get +5 points for nobleness?_

**Blake Belladonna**

_Sure_

_You’ll still lose_

**Cheddar**

_blake i had no idea you could be so cruel_

_60_

**Blake Belladonna**

_67_

**Cheddar**

_HOW_

**Blake Belladonna**

_Turns out I’m pretty good with both hands._

**Cheddar**

_hm_

_well_

_you win_

**Blake Belladonna**

_Not quite_

_69_

_Now I win :)_

**Cheddar**

_miss belladonna_

_it’s been an honor losing to you_

**Blake Belladonna**

_What’s my prize?_

**Cheddar**

_i’ll never make fun of your eight thousand eyeliner pencils again_

_wait do you sign autographs with them?_

_is that why you have so many?_

**Blake Belladonna**

_No_

_I use lipstick, actually_

**Cheddar**

_you’re joking_

**Blake Belladonna**

_I’m_ _not_

**Cheddar**

_that’s got to be so expensive_

_doesn’t it like... wash off?_

**Blake Belladonna**

_My mom suggested it when I came to my first convention. I do one in permanent marker, too, but the novelty caught on_

_Fortunately people started bringing their own_

_...If they don’t, I just use a Sharpie_

**Cheddar**

_also a classic makeup tool_

**Blake Belladonna**

_Now I hope you’re joking_

**Cheddar**

_oh no_

_just ask 14 year old ruby_

_she had a serious double winged eyeliner phase_

_made her own stencil and used a fine tipped sharpie_

_it lasted like a week each time she put it on_

**Blake Belladonna**

_Seriously?_

**Cheddar**

_better than wasting 20 minutes every morning trying to get it symmetrical i guess_

_i wouldn’t say it was a good look but it was definitely a look of some sort_

Blake was halfway through typing a response when someone leaned across the table a little too far and tried to peek at her screen.

“Ooooooh, are you talking to Yang?”

She locked her phone and looked up from her lap. Her poker face was something she was proud of - back in high school, it had kept her from getting caught looking at her during class on more than one occasion. Apparently, talking to Yang made it a little harder to keep a straight face.

“Your livestream together was so cute! I’ve followed both of you for so long. This is like, my dream,” the fan across the table continued. “Please say you’re posting another collab on your channel.”

Behind her, the next person in line felt compelled to share their opinion. “Yang made it pretty clear yesterday that she’s not looking for a girlfriend.”

The first fan’s face fell, but then lit right back up. “Because they’re already together! It makes perfect sense.”

“Obviously they’re not. Yang doesn’t want to date right now.”

“How do _you_ know? Blake, is it true--”

Blake slipped her phone into her pocket as she stood up. “Sorry. My wrist needs a break.”

Hearing someone other than her parents have such vehement opinions on her dating life was... new. And uncomfortable.

**Blake Belladonna**

_Your fans are intense_

_Just had one in my line_

**Cheddar**

_i’ve had a couple of yours too_

_guess people liked our video lol_

**Blake Belladonna**

_Guess we’ll have to do another sometime_

For a second, Blake entertained the idea of encouraging Yang to take a break, but it had barely been ten minutes since she’d gotten back to signing. Blake was torn, now, between looking forward to the party that night and wanting to skip to the part where she pulled Yang aside and finished what they’d nearly started upstairs. She had half of an idea for how to make that happen.

Thanks to the convention and the added chaos of what was going on with Pyrrha’s channel, Blake didn’t have time to overthink whatever was going on with her and Yang. Normally she would pick apart every aspect of an attraction, weigh all the reasons it was a good or bad idea, and angst over the right time to do or say anything until it fizzled out. She usually spent weeks just in that first phase, considering and contemplating, cautious of getting swept up in something that glowed too brightly. Fire wasn’t supposed to be touched, not without leaving scars behind.

But for all of her shine, Yang felt more like earth than fire. Maybe Blake had first taken notice of her because of the brilliant way she lit up a room, but something solid had to be the source of such a steady light. Something sure. It was enough to convince Blake that this particular fire intended to warm, not burn, and it could sustain itself without consuming everything in its path and leaving a trail of ash behind.

All thoughts that might have made Blake second guess herself, had she had the time to entertain them.

Stepping away from the autograph table turned out to be a mistake, because it wasn’t just fans who wanted her attention.

Adam tried to shoulder past her security guard, stubbornly keeping his team badge tucked into his shirt instead of simply flashing it. It would have gotten him inside quicker, but instead he just stood there, waiting.

He caught her eye, but Blake almost pretended he didn’t. She waved to the guard, and Adam smirked as he walked towards the back of the booth.

“I need to talk to you, Blake,” he said, sound far too much like a parent who caught their teenager coming home after curfew.

“Hello to you, too.” Her tone had too much attitude already. Maybe if she kept talking, he wouldn’t notice. “What’s up?” she asked, injecting what felt like a plausible amount of cheer.

His eyes narrowed. “You didn’t respond to my message.”

“I don’t like to be on my phone before signings,” she tried. “Too nerve-wracking.”

“What could you possibly have to be nervous about? Everyone out there is paying to talk to you. They’re the ones who should be nervous. Maybe if they were a little more conscientious of that, they’d spend less of their precious face time embarrassing themselves.”

Fans could go a little overboard, sure, but Blake didn’t like hearing him talk about them like that. “They’re just excited.”

He let out a hollow laugh. “It’s sweet of you to defend them. But you don’t owe them anything.”

His emphasis was odd, carrying an implication Blake didn’t particularly like. Somehow, it sounded like a threat.

“I should get back,” she said.

“Just a minute.” He stepped around to block her path, and Blake wondered if it had always bothered her so much. “I said I needed to talk to you.”

“And I have fans waiting. You said it yourself. They’re paying for this time.”

He grabbed her wrist, reminding Blake that he had even worse habits than standing in her way. “I saw your livestream. With your new friend.”

“Yang?” Blake corrected.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

Her temper flared again. Anger wasn’t something she made a point of indulging often, but he was good at sparking it in her. Once, she’d mistaken that for passion, but she’d slowly realized the truth. “Why?” she demanded, fed up with trying to smother her own flame in favor of fanning his. “I’m allowed to make videos with whoever I want.”

“We’re supposed to make those kinds of decisions together,” Adam countered. “Don’t you think you’re taking advantage of that poor girl who lost her channel?”

“Pyrrha? We’re trying to make sure she _doesn’t_ lose her whole channel.”

“Either way, she’s going through something terrible, and you’re just inserting yourself into it,” he said. “There’s a difference between collaborating with someone and using their drama to get cheap attention.”

“What happened to her could have happened to any of us. She can’t even defend herself online without people swarming her with horrible comments.” A thought came, and for once, Blake was going to beat him at his own game. “I’m just standing up for someone who can’t speak out for herself.”

That was something he’d said to her early on when she’d asked why he wanted to work with Menagerie. Back then, she hadn’t realized that he saw no difference between speaking up for someone and speaking _for_ them, drowning them out until that their voice went silent altogether.

Adam took a step towards her. “Cute,” he spat. “you can make fun of my mission - of your parents’ mission - all you want. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re risking your entire career to support someone who’s in way over her head. What do you get out of this? Some new best friends? News flash, Blake. Once this is over, they won’t need you anymore. You’re letting them use you and your reputation. They probably won’t even keep you around through the weekend.”

Blake blinked up at him. He’d seemed taller, before. “Are you done?” she asked.

“What did you just say?” he growled.

“I need to get back to my fans. You know, the people who are actually responsible for building my oh-so-fragile reputation.”

Adam, maybe for the first time in his life, flinched. He doubled down, crushing the space between them into a dense, thin line. “It doesn’t matter how many people love you. Pyrrha’s not going to win. _You’re_ not going to win. This movement is dead. I’m trying to protect you, Blake.”

“If Pyrrha wasn’t a real threat, they wouldn’t be targeting her.”

“She can’t take down a billion-dollar corporation.”

Blake’s eyes narrowed. Something was off. “What do you mean?”

He stood there, seething, not answering.

“I never mentioned any corporation.”

Adam was quiet for a moment, long enough to give himself away. “Neither did I.”

“Then what billion-dollar company are you talking about? Are you reading my messages again?” She’d had her phone on her all day, but there was always a chance he’d gotten to it early in the morning or gotten into her computer.

“I only did that before because I was worried about you, and it turned out I was right. Ilia was trouble.”

While he was attempting to explain himself, the realization hit Blake like a two-ton truck. “You’re working for them.”

“You’re not _listening_ to me, Blake--”

“I’m tired of listening to you, Adam!” Her voice was rising, and she was long overdue to get back to her table, but that couldn’t matter. “Your advertising contract is with the Schnee Dust Company, isn’t it?”

He grabbed her wrist again, and she understood why wolves gnawed their own feet off to escape traps. “I would never work for Jacques Schnee, and you know that,” he snarled. “But I see you have no problems befriending his daughter.”

Blake snatched her arm away.

Adam sighed. “This is why I didn’t tell you. I knew you would jump to conclusions and overreact.”

“How am I overreacting?” She stabbed a finger into his chest. “You sold out. You’re working for someone who - that company is evil!”

He held his hands up - a farce of a truce. “I was hired by Salem Corp,” he said slowly. “The distribution company. They’re handling the Dust launch next week, yes. But they brought me on to run a charity campaign.” His voice had dropped to its most dangerous register, and Blake had never imagined that someone could make the words _charity campaign_ sound so utterly vile. “Blake, you really think a company would start working on advertising for a product a week before its launch?”

She shook her head. “They’re still promoting something harmful. Covering it with a charity campaign doesn’t change that.”

Both companies were morally bankrupt, the only difference being that Jacques Schnee didn’t care enough to try and hide it. No amount of charitable fundraising could undo the damage Salem Corp had done. From its brutal exploitation of its workers to its complete absence of environmental considerations, the company was a common target for lawsuits. Unfortunately, grassroots groups like Menagerie didn’t have the resources or influence to do any real damage to the supergiant.

“Good is good, Blake, and this little stunt that Pyrrha and her friends are trying to pull could lead to a steep decline in fundraising for this charity campaign. I’m trying to mitigate that. At least my job is making a real difference in people’s lives.”

That might have stung coming from anyone else, but she knew he only dug in this deep when he felt his grasp slipping.

Two things shocked Blake, in that moment: she wasn’t surprised to learn the truth of his perspective, and she felt nothing but vindication in her decision. It had been a long time coming.

“Since you’re so committed to this new job, it’s probably best that you don’t waste your precious editing time on something that doesn’t matter,” she said, as steadily as she could. Her voice quivered a little as she made the declaration, but there was no uncertainty in her anger. Only finality. “We’re done, Adam.”

He was stunned, but in a second it exploded into rage. “You can’t fire me!”

With a nod to the security guard, Adam was being dragged away from the booth.

The guard held out a hand. “Team badge, please.”

Adam ignored them. “I _made_ you!” he shouted. “You’re nothing without me--”

Without looking back, Blake took a deep breath, strode back to her stand, and pretended she was just fine.

***

“But do we know for certain?” Weiss asked, once again pacing. If she burned a hole in the suite’s carpet, Yang was not going to be the one paying for it.

“Blake said the SDC is involved,” Yang confirmed, reading through the messages again.

**Blake Belladonna**

_Weiss is right. Her father’s company is working with a distributor for their launch, and they’re targeting Pyrrha. Adam’s working for them._

_Also I fired him._

The texts had Yang more than a little worried, and she hadn’t heard from Blake since. It made her all the more anxious to get down to the party. Adam didn’t seem like someone who would take being fired with grace.

“But is she sure?” Weiss asked. “This is all getting very complicated. We certainly can’t trust Adam. How do we even know we can trust Blake?”

“I trust her,” Yang said. “I mean, she had plenty of chances to stab me in the eye, but she didn’t.”

Weiss made one of her faces, but she didn’t pursue any line of interrogation.

Ruby entered the living room, another elaborate party dress unzipped up the back. “Blake’s been anti-Dust for years, at least according to her old Instagram posts that I scrolled through last night and very carefully made sure not to like.”

Weiss rolled her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re not supposed to like old Instagram posts,” Yang explained.

“Why not?”

“It’s like, a thirst Bat signal.”

Somehow, Weiss turned almost as pale as her hair. “That would have been good to know.”

Yang noticed Ruby fumbling to zip her dress past the halfway point and jumped in to help. “What did you do, Weiss?”

“Nothing,” Weiss squeaked.

The zipper snagged on a bit of tulle - so much _tulle_ \- and wouldn’t budge. Yang cast a sly smile back over her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Pyrrha won’t mind.”

Weiss let out a trademark indignant scoff. “How did you--”

“You were on her page earlier. You kept showing me pictures and saying things like, ‘How do deltoids even look like that?’ so it felt like a pretty safe guess.”

“Regardless,” Weiss said loudly, “we have a much more important issue at hand.”

“That we do. Ruby, face forward and stand up straight,” Yang said. “Your zipper’s stuck.”

“Yes, sir! Wait, it is? That’s not good,” Ruby said.

Weiss, queen of exasperated sighs, struck again. “Can we please get back to the possible Dust Company involvement angle?”

“No offense, Weiss, but it almost sounds like you’re hoping your dad isn’t behind this whole thing,” Yang said.

“Of course I’m hoping for that!” Weiss exclaimed. “Can you imagine how much of a nightmare this is going to be if it _actually_ turns into a corporate slander lawsuit? It would be much easier to deal with a pack of poorly coordinated Redditors.”

Ruby moved again, making it very hard for Yang to solve this zipper situation. “Well, the good news is you were probably right this morning, Weiss. I know you love being right.”

“In this case, I wish I wasn’t.” 

Yang yanked up on the zipper again, but it didn’t budge. “Rubes, I think we’ve got a problem.”

Ruby groaned. Weiss came stomping over, already shooing Yang. “I’ll handle this. We are running late _again_ and I will not have another evening ruined by your apparently genetic aversion to being punctual.”

“Sounds like you’re telling me to head down,” Yang said. She could get a head start on finding Blake in what was sure to be a ridiculous crowd of people vying for photographs.

“Don’t you dare,” Weiss warned. “You’re the one who got this zipper stuck in the first place.”

“Alright, see you guys there!” Yang grabbed her jacket from the table and headed out.

The closing door muffled Ruby’s protests. “Don’t leave meeee!”

And Weiss, desperately: “Hold still!”

Predictably, Yang didn’t actually care about being on time to the party, but she didn’t want to waste another minute on a broken zipper when Ruby had half a dozen other dresses to choose from. Plus, Weiss was better with clothes and such. This was the more efficient option for everyone, really.

That turned out to be partially untrue, unfortunately, once the elevator stopped on Nora and Ren’s floor. Ren held the door for a full minute while Pyrrha fixed Jaune’s tie, and then Nora thought it would be a great idea to hit all of the buttons on their way down to “build suspense.” Which, to be fair, would have been hilarious under just about any other circumstances. Blake hadn’t texted or posted anything since her message about firing Adam, and Yang was trying not to read into it. But she’d dealt with people like Adam before, and... she forced herself not to think about it.

Even if everything turned out to be just fine, Yang was sure that her makeup would start melting off in the sweaty, cramped elevator, and she didn’t want Blake thinking she didn’t appreciate her hard work.

When they arrived in the conference room that split off from the lobby, it became brilliantly clear that this was intended to be a very different sort of event from the cocktail hour the night before.

The music took up a noticeable amount of space, but it wasn’t so loud that it drowned out conversation. This was supposed to be a networking event, after all - even if it looked more like a nightclub. The room was split neatly down the middle, a dance floor to the left and a bar-style lounge to the right where people were buying drinks and schmoozing just about anyone who passed by. All of the overhead lights were off in favor of dance floor lasers, neon signs, and what looked like 20-foot tall lava lamps spread out in the space (Weiss was going to have an aneurysm when she saw these design choices).

“They have fog machines!” Nora exclaimed, waving her foot around to disperse some of the mist circling her ankles. She gasped when she saw the other decorations. “Ren, take a picture of me climbing that lava lamp.”

“Are you sure you want a picture with it?” Ren asked. “It’s kind of ugly.”

“I want to be Spiderman!”

“That sounds dangerous.”

“More like great-gerous!”

“That isn’t even a little bit reassuring.”

“Come on, come on, come _on,”_ Nora urged, and Ren caved. She dragged him off towards the dance floor.

“I suppose we should start at the bar,” Pyrrha suggested.

Jaune looked about ready to keel over, even if his Pyrrha-selected party suit looked rather dashing. “After the day I’ve had, I agree,” he said, voice cracking. 

Pyrrha ruffled his hair and looped her arm through his. Jaune would probably last an hour, tops. Just in case he didn’t even make it that long, Yang followed them towards the lounge area, lingering a few steps back and keeping an eye out.

Yang didn’t blame him. He’d spent almost a solid 24 hours running damage control and soliciting legal advice from everyone he knew, including Yang’s dad. She’d pointed out that her father knew nothing about legal procedures, despite having dated a lawyer briefly, but that didn’t stop Jaune from trying. The effort of reaching out in every possible direction left him in his current bedraggled state, but he would do anything for Pyrrha, just like the rest of their friends. Nobody deserved to be in this mess less than she did.

Making a concerted effort to tamp down her anger at the whole situation, Yang took a breath and scanned the room. Apparently being fashionably late didn’t matter to actual fashion bloggers, considering how many people were already packed into the conference room. She recognized a few people: Coco, Velvet, Scarlet David, Penny.

There was also Neon Katt, who Yang had danced with exactly once at the last VidCon. There was an entire selfie posted on Neon’s Instagram commemorating the event. She didn’t stay in one place longer than it took to get a picture, and then she glided on to the next photo op. Now she had an arm around some guy with blue hair, and there was a glowing, pink heart sign above their heads. Well, starting your own relationship rumors was one way to get attention.

Blue hair guy must have noticed Yang glancing in their direction, because as soon as Neon dashed off, he was turning the charm on and sauntering over. Yang wasn’t sure what about her was giving off the vibe that she was at all interested, but she intended to shut it down immediately.

“Hey,” the guy said. Yang could almost see his teeth sparkling. “Having fun?”

“Well, I just got here,” Yang said vaguely. The question was a very obvious trap, and she was not about to fall into it. “Just waiting for my friends.”

“Oh,” he replied, thrown. “Well, what are you drinking?”

Yang waved her glass and answered, “Vinegar.”

“Uh... cool. Cool.” The look on his face was priceless. She’d have to thank Blake for that one later - if she ever showed up.

“Neptune, leave her alone,” a voice said. It belonged to a blond guy who apparently had very little interest in using buttons for their intended function of keeping his shirt closed.

A familiar voice cut through the noise. “Sun? Is he embarrassing himself again?”

Trailing after the blond guy (Sun, apparently) was the one person Yang had been unabashedly searching for since walking in. Blake was in a black dress that could have been called stunning if it weren’t being mercilessly overshadowed by the woman wearing it. She’d done her makeup with striking violet accents, all dark shadows and deep pigments. Even without trying, she would have been the most beautiful person in this room, and the thought stole Yang’s breath right out of her lungs. Blake’s smile did nothing to put it back.

“Blake, you’re okay,” Yang said, for once wondering if she’d been too quiet. But Blake seemed to hear, though. She cocked her head, not quite understanding.

Sun patted Neptune’s shoulder. “Trust me, bro. She’s not interested.” He might have caught Yang staring, or maybe he was just better at picking up signals than his Manic Panic-dipped friend.

Neptune shot him a look. “Sun, man, you’re kind of stepping on my game.” Seriously, had he dyed his hair to match the theme? Yang had to give him credit for the commitment, if nothing else.

Sun gestured in her direction. “That’s Yang Xiao Long.”

Neptune put on a look that could only be described as a smolder. “Nice to meet you, Yang Xiao--”

“She’s gay, dude. Stop it.”

Neptune opened his mouth, but all that came out was an odd squeak.

Yang couldn’t help but laugh. “Sun is right. I’m very much not interested.” Her gaze drifted back to Blake, and it might as well have stayed there the rest of the night. The garish lights and borderline intrusive music seemed to reflect off of the space around her, softened and muted in her presence. It was odd, Yang realized, for such placidity to survive in such an environment, but Blake was like the ocean at midnight.

Yeah. Not the kinds of thoughts she usually found herself entertaining at parties.

“You guys know each other?” Sun asked, looking between them.

Maybe Yang knew how to answer his question in some other reality. Lost in an alternate universe somewhere was the explanation for why a simple _yes_ wouldn’t suffice, couldn’t encompass everything that Yang understood but couldn’t put into words. Something had been set in motion, and Yang had no intention of stopping it.

It was Blake who finally answered Sun. “Something like that,” she said, just loud enough that Yang could hear her over the music.

“What’d you say?” Neptune shouted, leaning past Sun.

Blake’s eyes were fixed on Yang’s, burning. “Do you want to go somewhere?” she invited.

Yang nodded, took her hand, and followed.

***

Weiss and Ruby got down to the party just in time to catch a glimpse of Yang disappearing down the hallway outside.

“Of course your sister runs off ten minutes into the one event where she lets me make her look like she actually cares about being here,” Weiss grumbled.

“Maybe she didn’t like the outfit you picked,” Ruby teased.

“Impossible.” That was, without a doubt, not the reason. “Knowing her, she ran into _someone_ and forgot that there’s a purpose behind these convention parties beyond drinks and dancing.”

“Don’t worry, Weiss. I like the dress you chose for me!”

“Ruby, that’s not--ugh.” They were having two separate conversations, weren’t they? “I’m glad you like it.”

“Look, there’s Pyrrha!” Ruby grabbed Weiss’ hand and dragged her into the conference room, entering past some genuinely abhorrent light fixtures. Who could have possibly thought it was a good idea to upholster this whole weekend in violent neon? If there was anything influencers hated, it was bad lighting.

While Weiss was caught up mentally reprimanding whoever was responsible for this aesthetic disaster, Ruby kept pulling her along. Naturally, the thought of getting into the party (and seeing Pyrrha) was exciting, but the floor-to-ceiling lava lamps deserved a solid ten minutes of mockery.

Ruby yanked on her hand a little too hard, and Weiss stumbled. She probably would have landed on her face if someone hadn’t caught her.

“Pyrrha,” Weiss said, failing spectacularly in her efforts to sound collected. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Good evening.”

“Hello there,” Pyrrha giggled. It wasn’t fair that someone this tall and gorgeous could also be so cute. Frankly, it was downright rude.

Really, the whole situation was embarrassing enough - then it got so much worse when Weiss realized that a very strong arm was still around her waist, and, despite her elaborate choice of footwear, her toes were barely touching the ground.

Ruby cut in and helped Weiss get back on her feet, which was rude for completely different reasons. “I told you not to wear those heels,” Ruby said. “Nobody can walk right in knife shoes!”

“They’re called stilettos, Ruby.” Weiss smoothed her dress down, though it was hardly ruffled. “Thank you, Pyrrha,” she said, very curtly.

“No problem,” Pyrrha returned. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

Weiss, suddenly feeling like she might fall over again, leaned against the corner of the bar counter and miraculously managed to sit on one of the stools.

Thankfully, Ruby interrupted before Weiss had to try and say anything. “I made her dress.”

“Really? It’s gorgeous,” Pyrrha said.

“Thank you!”

Jaune came over and greeted them before pulling Pyrrha aside. Predictably, she was getting swamped with requests to meet with advertisers, sponsors, and all manner of businesspeople looking to partner with her in some capacity. The chaos around her channel couldn’t cut into the fact that she was a wonderful, charming person, and Weiss was glad to see her smiling so much, even if it was at strangers with more of an interest in her platform than anything else.

Pyrrha waved to the man she’d been speaking to, and he bowed his head slightly. It was impossible to guess whether it had been a successful conversation in any way, given that Pyrrha’s cheerful grin never slipped.

Despite being several hours overdue for a good night’s sleep, Jaune had been acting as a sort of bouncer for Pyrrha’s corner of the bar lounge all night, screening anyone who wanted to speak with her and making sure they had legitimate reasons for wanting a meeting. A few gossipmongers had tried to sneak past him, but they were fairly easy to spot. They tried a little too hard to seem legitimate by offering business cards right away or listing off a slew of personal references. One even tried to say that he was a friend of Yang’s, which made Weiss and Ruby burst out laughing. Most of the unwelcome press folk, including the alleged friend of Yang, got angrier than any self-respecting businessperson would when they were turned away. Weiss was well aware that respect for professional boundaries was in short supply among paparazzi.

After half an hour of sporadic conversation between brief meetings, a woman who might have been overdressed for the Academy Awards was striding toward their circle, skirting past Jaune entirely. She must have been in their corner of the lounge already, though Weiss didn’t remember seeing her come in. Surely her appearance would have made more of a splash.

The woman swept in right in front of Pyrrha, a condescending smirk etched onto her face and an unmistakable sway in her hips. Her dress looked like it had been carved out of a sheet of sparkling obsidian, and she wore a matching blazer over it, leaving her ember-glowing eyes as the only color in her ensemble. It was an odd choice, hiding a dress that was clearly supposed to be the star of the show. Everything about her made Weiss bristle.

“I’ve got this,” Weiss said, taking a half step in front of Pyrrha. “And you are?”

“Aren’t you a little small for a bodyguard?” The woman said, her voice lilting like the final cadence of a minor symphony.

Ruby, bless her, was just as unfazed as she had been by that awful red-haired man in the elevator. “Careful. She goes for the knees.”

The woman gave the slightest hint of a laugh, but her face didn’t show it. “Funny.”

With that, Ruby’s unbothered expression tilted into a frown.

Weiss felt a strong urge to point out that she was barely shorter than Ruby, but she could worry about winning that argument after this woman was gone. “Sorry, but meetings with Pyrrha are by appointment only. You’ll have to check in with security.”

“Who?” The woman asked, sounding completely disinterested in the idea. She glanced over her shoulder, barely dedicating half a second to Jaune’s existence. “Oh, him.” She stayed exactly where she was, making it clear that she had absolutely no intention of following directions.

“What do you want?” Weiss asked.

“What I want doesn’t concern you. The people I represent, on the other hand... they want a lot of things.”

Pyrrha put a hand on Weiss’ shoulder. For a moment, Weiss thought she was being instructed to stand down, but the hand was merely resting there, exerting no force one way or another. Pyrrha certainly didn’t need a bodyguard, but maybe something about Weiss’ presence was... comforting.

“Who do you work for?” Pyrrha asked the woman.

“With,” the woman corrected. “Not for.”

“My apologies,” Pyrrha said. Anyone who didn’t know her wouldn’t have noticed the way the warmth in her voice flickered. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“I think you and my client can help each other,” the woman said, blatantly skipping over introductions.

Weiss searched for a name tag or a press badge, but the woman wore no identification. “If you talk fast enough, maybe you can get to the point before we have you escorted out,” Weiss said.

“Ooh, I see why you keep her around. She has quite the bark,” the woman said to Pyrrha. “Probably a good thing, since your security guard is half asleep.”

Pyrrha’s hand slipped from Weiss’ shoulder, landing on her lower back. Weiss froze, wondering why she hadn’t thought to wear something with an open back.

“I appreciate you taking the time to come and speak with me, but I’m afraid I’m not looking to partner with any new organizations right now,” Pyrrha said.

“Have a wonderful rest of your night,” Weiss added.

The woman’s jaw set, the slightest crack in her flawless veneer. “My client has no interest in partnering with you. In fact, they would rather you stay as far away from their brand as possible. Should you agree, they’re willing to settle quietly.”

Slowly, Pyrrha asked, “And if I shouldn’t agree?”

“This isn’t a threat,” the woman said plainly. “I’m offering you a solution to your little problem before it becomes a bigger problem. It’s like I said. You and my client can help each other.”

“You’re with the SDC,” Weiss said.

“Wrong again. Jumping to conclusions isn’t a habit I recommend indulging so often.” The woman reached for her blazer pocket, touching the corner of her phone briefly. “I’m not here on behalf of the SDC.”

Weiss had stopped listening, focused on the phone in the blazer pocket. The case was a blank, black mirror, as if the screen wrapped around it completely. The neon lights flashed across the surface, across the tiny camera lens, and Weiss nearly tackled the woman right there.

“Are you recording this?” Weiss asked, her voice coming out much more shrill than she’d intended.

The woman looked almost bored now. “Darling, do I look like paparazzi?”

She didn’t, and that had Weiss infinitely more concerned.

The woman took her phone out of her pocket and turned it around, revealing the dark screen to prove that Weiss’ accusations were baseless. “I’m thinking we’re done here. I’ll inform my client that you... how did you put it? Have no interest,” the woman said. She started to leave.

“Sorry, what was your name again?” Ruby asked. “Just in case Pyrrha changes her mind.” Smart.

The woman just smiled and walked away.

“Okay, is anybody’s else’s skin crawling?” Ruby added, turning to face Weiss and Pyrrha. “Who was that lady? How’d she just appear out of nowhere like that?”

“I don’t like any of this,” Weiss said. “She could be lying about not working for my father’s company, but didn’t Blake say that they were working with a major distributor for their product launch? That company would have just as much stake in taking Pyrrha down as the SDC.”

“So even if she wasn’t lying, she was also kind of lying still,” Ruby said, her nose crinkled in disdain. “Businesspeople really are the worst.”

“Agreed.”

Pyrrha was quiet, and her hand had fallen away from Weiss’ back once the woman left. “Ruby, would you let Jaune know that he can take the rest of the night off and enjoy the party? I’ve had enough meetings for today.”

“Sure thing,” Ruby said, marching off to relieve Jaune of his post and leaving Weiss and Pyrrha in the corner.

“I think I’m going to head upstairs,” Pyrrha said. She was starting to look very tired, and the suddenness of it suggested that she’d been hiding it for much longer. “Thank you for stepping in like that.”

Weiss pushed down the physically improbable and completely irrational idea of picking Pyrrha up and carrying her upstairs. “Of course,” she said instead.

“Would you mind walking me up?” Pyrrha asked. If Weiss hadn’t known better, she might have thought there was a note of shyness in the question.

“Of course,” Weiss said, kicking herself for repeating exactly what she’d just said. “Someone has to keep these rabid advertisers off of you. Otherwise you might never make it out,” she covered.

“Much appreciated,” Pyrrha laughed.

As they left the party, Weiss took one last look at the room behind them. She thought, for a moment, how absurd it all was. So many of the people inside, that strange woman included, were dead set on appearing as mysterious, successful, or intimidating as possible, and for what? The chance at slapping a brand label on a ten-minute video? Feeling like the biggest fish? Scaring someone into compromising their principles?

Once they reached the elevator, she took the opportunity to free her feet from the godawful heels they’d been stuck in. Even after sitting for most of the night, her feet were killing her. Maybe Ruby had a point about putting appearances ahead of comfort.

In fact, maybe Ruby wasn’t the only one worth listening to a little more intently. Weiss had always thought Yang was just being lazy by not engaging with the glamorous world of networking, but maybe she was onto something. People needed to make a living, sure, but at the cost of turning every social interaction into a business opportunity? What was the point of befriending people if they were just intended to be used? In that moment, Weiss was beyond thankful she’d found a group that cared more about their friendships than they did the people they could introduce each other to.

Knowing that her friends had good instincts made her worry less about wherever Yang had run off to. Blake was new, but that didn’t have to be a bad thing.

Even if most of the people at this conference wanted something from everybody else, that didn’t have to be true for everyone who entered their lives. Someone like Pyrrha, for example, who had refused to let anyone put themselves in danger on her behalf. It wasn’t hard to see how genuine and kind she was, which was exactly why they’d overruled her and done it anyway.

If Weiss had only known her from her videos, she probably wouldn’t have jumped to her defense quite so fast, but there were so many things about Pyrrha worth protecting. This was already personal for Weiss, but it had become more than a vendetta.

***

The pool was pretty much the last place Yang expected to end up. Thanks to the party, the whole space was empty, and all of the lights except the ones inside the pool itself were off. She wondered if it had been officially closed for the night - and, if so, how did Blake manage to get them in? Moonlight poured in through the glass ceiling, bathing the room with a dull, soft glow while the solid walls shielded them from wandering hotel guests.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen an empty hot tub at a convention,” Yang said. “Can’t say I mind having private pool access though. Speaking of which, how did you...”

“Hmm. I have to keep some of my secrets, don’t I?” Blake said, one eyebrow raised. She lingered by the door, hand hovering on the handle, finger twitching up towards the deadbolt.

“You can lock it if you want. I’m more than fine having the place to ourselves,” Yang said, suspecting that the playful note in Blake’s voice shrouded something darker but avoiding pushing the issue. If things had gone badly earlier, no wonder she wanted to lock herself in a walled off room. At least she wasn’t doing it alone.

After a moment, Blake flipped the deadbolt, securing their impromptu reservation.

“Are we sitting?” Yang asked, investigating one of the two dozen lounge chairs set up around the perimeter. She imagined floating on her back and looking up at the stars - but she hadn’t exactly hidden a swimsuit under her dress, and Weiss would kill her if she came back to the room dripping wet.

Blake, however, seemed to have no such concern, if the splash behind Yang’s back was any indicator. Sure enough, Blake’s dress was haphazardly discarded on another chair, and Blake was already below the surface.

Yang’s first thought was that there was no way all of Blake’s makeup was waterproof. Her next was that she had a few seconds at most to strip out of her own clothes and dive in before Blake came back up. Not for the first time that night, given Ruby’s earlier wardrobe fiasco, Yang was profoundly thankful that Weiss hadn’t selected a zip-back dress for her. Before any thought of archaic modesty could fully crystallize in her mind, she was tossing her own dress aside.

With an impressive splash, she jumped into the water.

She stayed under for a few seconds, opening her eyes to see the lights slowly shift from yellow to green.

When she broke the surface, she was surprised to see that Blake’s makeup was still largely intact.

“Seven point five,” Blake said. “On the cannonball.”

“Damn. Tough crowd.”

“I have pretty high standards,” Blake explained. “It happens when you grow up by the ocean.”

She didn’t say anything else right away, just floated a few feet away. “Your makeup looks great,” Yang commented.

“Thanks.”

“Are you gonna tell me why we broke into the pool?”

“Yes.” With a sly smile, she tipped onto her back and closed her eyes, weightless and untethered, and simply let herself drift. She didn’t say anything else for a while.

Presumably, Blake had brought them here for a specific reason. Maybe that reason was simply to swim and feel like they were getting away with something, but nonetheless, a question burned in the front of Yang’s mind that she couldn’t stop herself from blurting out.

“Are you okay?” She hadn’t intended to make a fool of herself for getting too concerned if there turned out to be no reason for it, but every time she thought about that elevator ride with Adam, she remembered that she had some basis for worrying. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to deal with him on a less superficial level.

Blake’s eyes opened, but she stayed on her back. With a shaky inhale, she got back on her feet.

“I--I’m alright,” Blake said. She paused, then: “That wasn’t very convincing, was it?”

“I can pretend to be convinced,” Yang said. “We can just hang out and swim. Like you said.” Despite the suggestion, she stayed where she was, waiting for Blake’s reply should she have one.

Blake was quiet for a long moment. It looked like she was just staring into the now blue lights and struggling to think clearly, and Yang knew what it was like to wonder if your own thoughts made sense.

“We can float around in total silence,” Yang added. “Or I can ramble about stuff. I could tell you all about Ruby’s obsession with Oreos.”

The little smile that graced Blake’s expression felt more like a gift than most of the presents Yang had received.

“Whatever you want to do. Seriously.”

Finally, Blake looked at her again. “I didn’t want to bring you here to talk, Yang.”

“Oh.”

Then Blake’s expression was distant again, and Yang knew this wasn’t the right time. Even if both of them wanted it to be.

“Blake,” she started, “believe me when I say that I find breaking and entering into a fancy hotel pool ridiculously romantic.”

“That... was the intention, yes.”

“But if I’m gonna kiss you--”

The ears on top of Blake’s head shot straight up.

“--I want both of us to be up for it. And not just in the vague ‘oh, I think you’re actually the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen’ kind of way.”

Blake turned such an obvious shade of red that it was visible even under the violet light coming up from the pool.

“So if you want to just swim, or if you want to talk about what happened today, I’m here either way,” Yang finished.

There was a brief moment where the look on Blake’s face made it look like she might try to kiss Yang anyway, but then she nodded and relaxed into the water a little. “I think I do want to talk about what happened. Is that okay?”

“I am all ears, Blake.”

Blake shrugged one shoulder up. “Well, I’m currently locked out of my hotel room, so I had to go out and buy a new dress for tonight. Then I wore it for all of fifteen minutes.”

“If it’s any consolation, I think it was a great purchase,” Yang tried. “It looks amazing on you.”

“You’re making it very hard to not kiss you,” Blake said, a barely audible warning.

“My bad,” Yang laughed. “I’ll try and be less kissable.”

Coming close, Blake swam past her, out towards where neither of them would be able to stand. “Thank you.”

Yang turned around to face her, wading a little closer to the deep end. “Anything else you want to talk about?”

Blake took a deep breath as she started treading water. “I’m pretty sure I have no apartment to go back to when this weekend is over.”

“Why? That’s like, where you _live.”_

“It was.” Blake pushed further out into the deep end, facing the stars. “The lease is under Adam’s name, not mine. Honestly, I can’t think of a single good reason to go back there. Unless he took eight suitcases with him, which I doubt he would want to do, most of my makeup gear is probably still in the room. I brought plenty of clothes, too. I think trying to get anything else from the apartment would be too much of an ordeal. He’s probably changing the locks right now. Plus, anything I took would just remind me of him.”

Slowly, Yang was piecing together Adam and Blake’s relationship, whatever it was besides messy. It sounded a lot more serious than Blake’s relative calm had let on. “You live together?” Yang asked.

“Past tense,” Blake corrected. “Lived. Not anymore.”

Yang had too many questions, but most of them felt wildly inappropriate.

“How are you feeling?” Yang asked. That one felt safe, at least.

Blake swam back, her toes becoming the sole points of contact between herself and the pool floor. It was cute, watching her tiptoe-tread over. “Mostly tired. But lighter than I have in a really long time,” she answered. “Ever since I’ve known him, he’s been like this weight. At first, I thought he was so grounded and thoughtful, but he just wanted to pull other people down with him.” She stared down into the water, and her amber eyes burned as the lights turned red around them.

Yang’s voice came out quiet. “It sounds like you went through a lot with him.”

“In a way, I wish it had all been bad,” Blake said. “It’s hard to notice all the shadows when there’s something shiny and bright distracting you. I think I’ve known something was wrong for a while, but actually doing something about it felt like... I don’t know, jumping off a cliff?”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. People like him could make careers out of being dicks.”

“I think that’s exactly what he’s doing, actually,” Blake deadpanned.

“Is it cool if I laugh right now? Because that was funny.”

That drew a giggle from Blake, but there was still a heaviness in her shoulders. She’d been carrying a weight that wasn’t hers for so long, and letting go of it would take time. That was alright. More than alright, really.

“Hey,” Yang started, “This might be kind of a weird question. Since we’re, you know, technically in our underwear--”

Blake’s laugh was the most welcome interruption.

“Can I hug you?”

When Blake nodded, a tear slipped out of the corner of her eye.

Yang caught her as she took another step away from the deep end, still hovering over the ramp.

There was a moment where Blake was still trying to keep herself afloat, kicking her legs even as her arms came up around Yang’s middle. As she realized she could stop treading, she dropped her forehead against the front of Yang’s shoulder and her fingernails dug into Yang’s back, hanging on tight. Even with Blake’s feet barely touching the bottom of the pool, the water buoyed her enough that Yang hardly had to try to keep her supported.

“The pool probably won’t mind if you need to cry,” Yang said.

With a fractured sob, Blake melted against her. The lights bled the water gold, her grip relaxed, she let herself be held.

***

Pyrrha had invited Weiss to come into her room, and that was fine and normal and not at all a reason to act strangely.

“You can sit if you like,” Pyrrha invited, gesturing to the couch.

“Oh. Yes. Thank you,” Weiss said, definitely acting strangely.

Pyrrha disappeared into her bedroom, giving Weiss the unwelcome opportunity to freak out at the thought of the words _Pyrrha_ and _bedroom_ in the same sentence before snapping herself out of it.

“Poor Jaune,” Pyrrha continued from the other room. “He’s doing his best, but I’m afraid I’m asking too much of him.”

“You could hire an official manager,” Weiss suggested. She heard a dresser drawer slide open. “That way he wouldn’t have to be your producer, manager, publicist, security guard, and red carpet escort.”

“That’s not a bad idea.”

“Jaune seems better suited to the technical side of producing than the people managing part, anyway. Honestly, I don’t know how you’ve made it this far with just a producer. No offense to him.”

“No, you’re right. He is wearing a lot of hats. I’ve had plenty of agencies reach out to me.” Only Pyrrha could have made that sound humble. “But I always worried I’d stop being able to post the kinds of videos I want to make. It’s hard to trust someone I don’t know.”

“Understandable,” Weiss said.

The dresser drawer slid closed, and Pyrrha reappeared wearing a simple tank top and shorts. Pajamas, most likely, but the most flattering pajamas Weiss had seen in her entire life. Or maybe that was just because of who they were on.

Weiss took the cue and stood to leave, but--

“Would you be interested, by any chance?” Pyrrha asked.

“Interested in...?” Weiss returned, having largely forgotten what they were talking about before Pyrrha walked back in.

Pyrrha shrugged, and it had no business being so adorable. “Being my manager.”

“Oh,” Weiss said smartly.

“Yang’s told me how good you are at keeping her on a schedule.”

“That implies that she listens to me. I’m not actually her manager.” Since Pyrrha had sat down on the couch, Weiss figured she should do the same. It was only polite.

“I know, but I saw how you handled that woman at the party. Your instincts are sharp, and you know how to be direct when you need to be.” 

“In some cases, perhaps,” Weiss said.

“Jaune is very good at what he does, but I know he doesn’t enjoy having to wrangle advertisers.”

“So you want me to be your manager. As in, officially,” Weiss stated, wondering if she’d misheard somehow.

“If you’re up for it.”

With Pyrrha sitting this close and showering her with all manner of praise, Weiss was dangerously close to saying something she might regret - or agreeing to a position in which it would be very difficult to maintain a professional distance. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she said, smoothing her hands over the skirt of her dress.

“I figured you might have some reservations given your history with the press. I understand.” Pyrrha smiled, and it made Weiss’ already fragile sense of conviction waver all the more. “But I thought it couldn’t hurt to ask.”

“I appreciate your concern, but that’s not what I’m worried about.”

“No?” Pyrrha asked. The glimmer of hope in her eye was almost enough to make Weiss cave altogether.

Weiss shook her head, knowing that she needed to steer away from emotions and admissions that she was nowhere near ready to speak into reality. Telling someone she’d technically known for two days that she’d had a massive crush on her from a distance for much longer than that. “I can handle photographers,” she said in her best imitation of the woman from the party.

“In that case...” Pyrrha went on, “Will you at least think about it?”

Before Weiss could answer either way, there was a knock on the door.

With one last quick smile, Pyrrha got up and peeked through the hole in the wood. “Oh, my,” she said to herself.

When she opened the door, a small group was crowded at the threshold: Jaune, Ruby, Nora, Ren, Yang, and Blake, though the last two looked suspiciously damp. Weiss could guess what they’d been up to.

“We’ve got a problem,” Jaune said. “Pyrrha’s channel is gone.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm gideonthesixtyninth on tumblr and as always i love u <3


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